


A Twisted Upheaval

by silentsaebyeok



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: (Eventual) Flash Thompson Redemption Arc, Angst, Don't copy to another site, Flash Thompson Redemption, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, I don't want to spoil everything :), Kidnapping, Kingpin controls everything, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Tony Stark Coparenting Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) Needs a Hug, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Whump, more tags and characters will be added as we go!, platonic co-parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 44,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24061600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentsaebyeok/pseuds/silentsaebyeok
Summary: “I’m afraid, Harrison, you’ve awakened a sleeping giant.” Wilson said. “Tony Stark will do anything and everything to protect those he loves. And with your carelessness, it is inevitable that my criminal empire will be brought to its knees. This is your last opportunity, your last chance to get this right. He is on our radar now.”--The Kingpin runs the criminal underworld. He is the mastermind and the puppeteer. Tony Stark has been trying to find the elusive gangster for years, but with no luck. But then Peter Parker is kidnapped by an agent of the Kingpin’s, revealing the cracks in an otherwise unshakeable organization. Unlikely alliances form and friendships are made as the criminal underworld begins to unravel.
Relationships: Flash Thompson & Harrison Thompson, Happy Hogan/May Parker (Spider-Man), May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Tony Stark, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Flash Thompson, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Wilson Fisk & Harrison Thompson
Comments: 158
Kudos: 132





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! I've been working on this fic for months, and now I finally get to start sharing it! I'm so excited for what is in store, and I hope all of you will enjoy it too.  
> \--  
> This fic is an AU where Infinity War and Endg*me never happened, and Civil War was resolved quickly. The Avengers live together at the compound, minus Peter who lives in Queens with Aunt May, Clint who lives on his farm and a few other stragglers in various places. Homecoming and Far From Home happened, but with obvious differences considering what I mentioned above. It is also important to note that Peter's identity wasn't revealed at the end of Far From Home because I think that is stupid, and Mysterio is still alive (I don't think he's dead in canon anyway, but I digress). May and Happy are also a thing because that was implied at the end of the movie, but MJ and Peter's relationship is not clearly defined in this fic because I find MJ very hard to write...sorry :/ *ducks thrown tomatoes*  
> \--  
> This work would not be possible without two very incredible and talented people. First I would like to thank [KitCat992](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitCat992) for always listening to my ideas and cheering me on. I couldn't do it without her and her input makes this fic much better than anything I could come up with alone. Second, I would like to thank [HanukoYoukai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HanukoYoukai) for inspiring me to write this in the first place. Her wonderful fic [Omertà](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19810759/chapters/46906381) really got the gears turning in my head and if I hadn't ever read that, this fic would not exist. Thanks to the both of you!

_“The company’s about to go under, Harrison! We need that money!”_

Harrison Thompson spun in his desk chair, nervously tapping his foot on the floor as he held the phone to his ear.

“I told you I don’t have the money!” He answered. “Where the hell do you think I’m gonna scrounge up four million dollars from, huh? I can’t pull it out of thin air. Money doesn’t grow on trees and you know it Wilson!”

_“I don’t care if you have to sell all your assets and re-finance that mansion of yours in the Hamptons, get the money from somewhere or you’ll find someone very…intimidating at your place soon.”_ Wilson said, words slow and stilted, dripping with the venom only a man with incredible power and resources could conjure up. 

“Is that a threat?”

Wilson scoffed. _“What do you think, Harrison?”_ And after a pregnant pause, a sigh escaped Wilson’s lips. It was something Harrison had never heard from the man. _“Look, if you were anyone else, you’d already be dead. But as it stands, I consider you a close ally and a friend. Don’t mess this up.”_

And then the dial tone sounded in Harrison’s ear. The threat clear as day.

But he couldn’t sell the mansion in the Hamptons, not now. Not when his marriage with Rose was already on the brink. She loved that mansion. She loved going there after their fights. The fights that were becoming more and more frequent as he invested further and further into Wilson Fisk’s companies.

He should have never started that subsidiary company with him. He knew it was bad news. Especially since it hadn’t been long since finding out Wilson’s true identity. But Harrison was scared. He would never admit it, but he was. Wilson called him a friend, but he knew what he was capable of. He knew what he controlled, what he owned. And he understood how charming his personality could be.

He was in deep shit.

He spun back around, staring at the mahogany wood of his desk. Wilson would kill him. He would kill his family. He had to come up with something.

The sun began to peek from behind the clouds, bathing his home office in light, the glistening rays bouncing off the glass picture frame on the fireplace mantle. Harrison stood from his desk. The light was blinding him, just like it did every day at this time. But as he reached the fireplace, intent on turning the picture upside-down to stop the sharp light from burning his corneas, he noticed just what he was looking at.

It was Eugene’s decathlon team. A photo of the group when they won the national championship in Washington D.C. It was the championship Eugene actually got to participate in, the one where that Parker kid bailed at the last minute. The one where his failure of a son answered not a single question, even though he somehow received the opportunity.

That damn Parker kid simply needed to forfeit his position on the team, especially when…

Wait. _The Parker kid._

Suddenly Harrison had an idea.

“Eugene! Get in here!” He yelled from the door to his office, hoping his son could hear him. Going after Eugene was such a waste of energy after all.

Thundering footsteps bounded down the stairs, and after a moment, his breathless son appeared at the door. “Yes, Father?” Eugene asked.

“That Parker kid you’re always going on about? Does he really know Tony Stark?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Personally?” Harrison asked. “You better not lie to me!”

At least Eugene had the good graces to look sincere and open. Harrison could read him like a book.

“Yes. Peter knows Tony Stark personally, Father. Why do you care?”

“It isn’t any of your business, Eugene.” Harrison said, shooing his son away. “Now go back to your room and study. I’ve told you so many times that I don’t want my kid to be some petty alternate on the team. Next semester I want you to take Parker’s spot, you hear?”

“Yes, Father.” Eugene nodded, looking as if his words were a death sentence. Harrison had no idea why his son was so averse to studying.

As soon as Eugene had scampered back up the stairs, Harrison shut and locked his office door. He was about to make a very important phone call.

The line connected on the second ring. _“Hello?”_

“Alvin. I’ve got a job for you.”


	2. Ephemeral Abductions I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING: From this chapter on, this fic will have a lot of whump in it. There will be comfort (and lots of it!) eventually, but I’m warning you all now, there will be lots and lots of whump before we get to that point. This fic is rated T and has the “graphic depictions of violence” tag for a reason. In this chapter, there is also some discussion about mental health issues and child neglect leading to the worsening of mental health issues (regarding Flash). If you are not comfortable with any of that, don’t say I didn’t warn you!

Backpack? Check.

Headphones? Check.

Math textbook? Check.

Chemistry homework? Check, check. 

Now all Peter needed was to grab his jacket and lunch box from his locker and he would be good to go.

Another school day over, another day closer to graduation. And although Peter was only a junior, he would begrudgingly admit to counting down the days until he got out of this hellhole improperly termed ‘high school.’

It was just boring. And easy. School was easy for him, and it made eight hours of his day feel like a total waste of time. And when Flash Thompson was added into that mix, well, it just made things all that much more torturous.

The only saving grace was his friends. Ned and MJ. 

But neither of them were at school today. Ned was home sick, and he had no idea where MJ was. She was a bit cryptic after all.

And because of that, the day had felt so much longer than usual.

But now it was time to go home. Time to go home and eat May’s burnt leftovers from the night before and speedily finish his homework so he could get to the part of his day he always looked forward to: patrol.

He had a feeling it was going to be a good evening. Well, for a Tuesday that is.

\--

It was a nice day. A nice afternoon. The sun was shining brightly in the sky and pigeons all over the city were singing their springtime tunes. Peter really hadn’t needed to bring a jacket to school on such a sunny, beautiful day. He just ended up leaving it in his locker. And now that he was walking home and enjoying the weather, it was tied around his waist.

As he stood at the corner of Broadway and Twenty-First, waiting for the signal to indicate he could cross, he relished the feel of the sun on his face and the soft April breeze passing him by.

It wasn’t long before the red stop hand disappeared, the walking figure replacing it. But after taking a few steps out onto the crosswalk and out into the open road, Peter’s Spidey Sense screamed at him, a sharp and sudden warning, a chill going over his spine.

But it was too late.

A jet-black Humvee was coming at him at an incredible speed.

He braced for impact.

And one second he was minding his own business, crossing the street just like he did every day, and the next he was flipping up into the air, the impact knocking the wind out of him and causing something somewhere to snap. His right shoulder crashed into the windshield and popped out of place before he flipped up and over the back of the vehicle. His face hit the ground hard, pain exploding across his right cheek, and it felt like forever until he skidded to a stop in the middle of the road.

After taking a moment to catch his breath, to learn how to breathe again, Peter groaned. Several bones were broken, that was certain. There was a ringing in his ears. He didn’t know which way was up. And even though he’d come to a stop, everything was still spinning and moving inside his head.

The pain came next. Some of it sharp and stinging, some of it deep and aching. He couldn’t move, he knew that. If he moved, he would pass out. No question about it. He was vaguely aware of people whispering, of the sound effects of cell phone cameras, but none of it meant anything to him. He couldn’t put two and two together. The fact that he was just hit by a car while crossing the street didn’t even register to him in the moment.

But suddenly, the bright sun was blocked from his vision. And as he opened his eyes, there was a ski mask clad man directly in front of him, holding a huge gun.

“It’s okay, Peter Parker.” The man whispered, stroking a finger over his forehead, a smile evident in his voice. “It’ll all be over soon.”

And then a wet, rancid rag was stuffed over his mouth and nose, jamming against his clearly broken cheekbone and causing him to cry out. He didn’t want to breathe in the chemical covering the rag, he didn’t want the smell of it burning his sinuses and lungs. But he had no choice. He couldn’t move and the man’s grip was strong and painful.

The panic was overtaking him. Because Peter knew what this was now. He knew what was happening. And he could only pray that somehow, they didn’t know his secret identity. He could only hope that they didn’t know he was Spider-Man.

And his last feeling, before succumbing to the noxious fumes he was breathing in, was that of being jostled and moved—manhandled—into the back of the Humvee.

He was being kidnapped.

Fear.

Pain.

Confusion.

Gone.

\--

After school detention sucked ass. Flash hated it. It was boring and long and Michelle Jones was always there. Drawing away. Like she was having the time of her life. He wondered why she was here today. She hadn’t even been in class!

Ugh. He just hated it. Well, he just hated school in general. He hated everything about it.

But he wouldn’t be languishing in this dim, cramped classroom without anything but his homework if it wasn’t for Penis Parker.

God, he was so annoying. Perfect Peter Parker who always had his shit on lock. Never turned his homework in late and knew all the answers to every fucking question. His life seemed perfect. No problems and people who actually gave a shit about him.

It was aggravating.

Because he was everything Flash wanted to be. Everything he knew he could be if his parents gave a damn about him.

And sure, Flash had made some snide remarks to Parker during chemistry that were probably uncalled for, but he didn’t think he deserved detention for making fun of Parker’s dollar store clothing and shoes. After all he did stick out like a sore thumb at Midtown. He was practically the only working-class kid who went to such a prestigious school.

All because he won that stupid _gifted_ scholarship for disadvantaged kids.

But what about his life was a disadvantage? He knew Tony fucking Stark! He had lots of friends and was extremely smart. And sure, he didn’t have parents, but his aunt acted more like a mother than his own mom did to him. Flash knew it from the way she was always there, supporting Parker at every decathlon competition and every science fair.

Ugh. It was always back to his parents. He knew his father would yell at him when he got home from detention. He knew the disappointment and disapproval would make itself known and continue to bother him for days to come.

Because he was never good enough for his father. He was more of a nuisance than a son. He was in his way. He didn’t give a damn about him, and only wanted to use him for his own gains. 

And his mother was just as bad. She was into that holistic healing shit. She refused to get him medication for his ADHD. He could practically hear her shrill, frequent rants about Big Pharma playing in his head.

_“You just need to apply yourself, Eugene. Stop being lazy. ADD or whatever they call it these days isn’t real. It’s all a plot by Big Pharma to sell things that are bad for your body, get you addicted and rake in the cash! As your mother, I’m not going to let you take mind-altering substances that won’t help a kid as lazy as you. You need to develop a work ethic like your father’s instead of sitting around on that cell phone all day long doing God knows what.”_

Flash crumpled up his math worksheet in his hand, balling it into a fist and feeling like he was going to burst with rage. He couldn’t think about his mom’s rants. He just couldn’t. Because if he did, he would do something he regretted.

But he already did. Because it had only been a couple weeks since he found out Peter had ADHD too. And since then, his taunts and jabs at the kid had increased exponentially. Because Peter was fine. He didn’t have any problems concentrating in school and getting his homework done. He was fine because he took the fucking medicine because his aunt wasn’t into bat-shit crazy conspiracy theories. 

That’s what it was really about, and Flash knew it. It was the whole reason he felt the need to point out Parker’s cheap clothes to the class today. Because it was one of the only areas where he had it better than his classmate. Parker didn’t have to struggle to get passing grades and focus on his homework. He didn’t have to lie and pretend like he was working hard when he wasn’t. He had people that cared. People that would get him help and look out for him. People that didn’t treat him like he was stupid and lazy all the time when he just couldn’t concentrate on anything for more than five seconds.

He was absolutely and completely jealous of Peter Parker and he didn’t know how to make it stop. He didn’t know how to quit lashing out on him when he didn’t do anything to deserve it.

He didn’t know how to be nice and make _real_ friends. Friends that cared like Peter’s did.

Flash groaned and put his head in his arms, resting his cheek against the cool linoleum desk. He had to stop thinking about all his problems. He had to push them to the back of his mind and worry about them later. It was all too much.

Was he giving up? Probably. But he had no clue how to be a good person and he was positive his parents weren’t the ones to ask. 

\--

“Mrs. Parker, what do I owe the pleasure to?” Tony said, more than a little nervous May was video messaging him to yell at him. After all, none of their out-of-the-blue phone calls, texts or video messages had ever ended well.

_“I told you not to call me that.”_ May said, a sly smile on her face. 

“Of course, May. What’s up?”

May inhaled. _“Is Peter with you? He was supposed to be home from school hours ago and I haven’t seen him.”_

“No.” Tony said, feeling his blood pressure rise by the second. “I thought he was with you. It isn’t a lab day, is it?”

_“It’s Tuesday, Tony. You tell me.”_

“Right.” Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Those were the lab days. Tony couldn’t help it if he never knew what day of the week it was.

_“So, he’s not with you?”_ May repeated, tone rising slightly, something Tony came to understand meant she was nervous.

“No, he’s not.” Tony answered. “FRIDAY, track Peter’s phone, watch and suit, will you?”

“Will do, Boss.” FRIDAY’s tinny Irish voice replied.

_“He probably went out on patrol early.”_ May said, sounding as if she didn’t believe it herself. _“The weather is really nice today and you know how much he likes the sun.”_

Tony hummed, looking at the data FRIDAY pulled up on his computer screen, nervousness rising exponentially. The suit was in his bedroom in Queens, not really out of the ordinary, but the little dots on the map that showed Peter’s watch and phone made his heart stop momentarily. The phone and watch were in _different_ locations, something that rarely ever happened. The phone was in Astoria and the watch was on the edge of Hell’s Kitchen, right by the Lincoln Tunnel.

Something must have shown on his face because the next thing he knew, May was questioning him.

_“Tony, what’s wrong?”_

“His watch and phone are in different places, May. This isn’t—”

“Boss.” FIRDAY interrupted. “You need to take a look at this.”

Turning to the computer screen on his right, Tony watched as FRIDAY pulled up the trending page of Twitter. Under the hashtag ‘hit and run kidnapping’ were dozens of videos. They all documented the same event but were taken from various points of view.

Tony watched, eyes glued to the screen, as a teenager with a very familiar backpack and science pun t-shirt was struck by a large, black Humvee at an incredible speed. He knew it was Peter. He knew it and there was no denying it. Everything in the videos screamed Peter Parker from the clothing, to the hair to the figure’s gate. And he continued to watch, horrified, as a masked figure approached his boy and stuffed a rag full of some sedative or another into his mouth and nose and dragged his broken, unconscious form into the back of the Humvee.

No one did anything.

Nobody did anything. Instead they filmed the incident and put it up on Twitter—made it a trending hashtag.

Tony was going to throw up.

_“Tony? Is…what’s going on? What’s wrong?”_ May asked, and for a moment Tony had forgotten she was there. Had forgotten she was watching him.

“I…Peter…he’s been….” There was no way he could make himself say it. There was no way to even allow himself to say it.

Because this was his worst nightmare. The one thing he hoped Peter never had to experience. Because he knew how bad it was. How dehumanizing and nightmarish it was to be—

_“Tony.”_ May said, pulling him out of his thoughts. She had an anguished look on her face, one that told him she had figured it out. Just by watching his facial expressions. _“He’s alive, right? Tell me he’s alive?”_

Tony gulped. “I…I don’t know. He’s injured. But he’s been—who knows what they will do to him.”

He couldn’t bear to look at May’s face. He didn’t want to see those eyes. He didn’t want them to confirm how much of a failure he was at protecting her kid.

_“We’ll get him back, Tony. We just need to come up with a plan and…”_ May trailed off.

He made the mistake of looking at her then. Her eyes were hollow and glassy, and she looked on the verge of tears.

The look on her face almost broke him, and his chest was constricting in the way it did when he was on the verge of a panic attack.

But then a fiery resolve came. Because he knew what he had to do, and he knew who he had to do it for. Because May Parker didn’t deserve this, _he_ didn’t deserve this. And Peter deserved it least of all.

“We’ll get him back.” Tony said, nodding and surprised at how strong his voice sounded. “Whatever it takes.”

_“Whatever it takes.”_ May repeated.

Tony drew in a sharp breath. “Is Hap home? You both need to get to the compound ASAP. We don’t want whoever took Peter coming after you too.”

_“Yeah, Boss. I’m right here.”_ Happy said, popping into frame.

Tony almost wondered if he’d been there the whole time but didn’t have the emotional bandwidth to ask.

“Alright. I’m sending one of my bulletproof town cars to your apartment. I’ll have FRIDAY activate the self-driving feature. I need you both to hop in as soon as it arrives. It will bring you here. I…I don’t know how long this will be, so pack the essentials. It could get…It could get messy. I…I don’t know why they took him. I don’t know if it’s because—” 

_“Okay. We’ll be right there.”_ May said, cutting off his frantic rambling. _“I just need to call Liv, my boss, and tell her what’s going on. I have a feeling I won’t be going into work tomorrow.”_

“Yeah. Yeah do that. I’ll see you both soon.” Tony said, tightly clutching one of the stress balls he kept on his desk in his hand.

But just as he was about to end the call, Happy spoke up. _“Do you need me to call Pepper?”_

Tony was taken somewhat aback. Happy always knew what he needed. But Pepper was at a business conference in Seoul, she couldn’t drop everything and come back home just because he was having a panic attack.

“Thanks, Hap. But I’ve got it.” Tony answered.

His forehead of security didn’t look so sure, but he was wise enough not to press the issue. _“Alright. See you in a bit, Tony.”_

And then the call ended.

Tony stood, stumbling a little, a panic-induced lightheadedness overtaking him. “FRIDAY, track the plates on that Humvee, I want to know where it’s going.”

After a minute that felt like twenty, FRIDAY answered. “It has been abandoned close to the Lincoln Tunnel, Boss. My records indicate it was stolen. It is not street legal in the state of New York.” 

Tony’s brain was short-circuiting. “Okay, okay. Call the police. Tell them…just…uh…you know what to tell them. That vehicle is evidence.”

He felt his legs about to give way. He stumbled over to the couch in the corner of his lab. He was panicking. He didn’t even know where to begin. He didn’t know how to proceed when the fear was coursing through his veins at a spectacular speed. How was he supposed to breathe when his worst nightmare was staring him in the face? How was he going to get Peter back from this?

His thoughts were consumed with an oppressive, thick, pulsating sense of foreboding. There was nothing else in his head besides the drum beat of dread. His hands were shaking. There was nothing he—

“Tony, do you know where Steve’s sketchbook is? Because if you hid it in some sort of prank I swear to—what’s wrong?”

Tony looked up. He was so lost in his thoughts, in his panic, that he hadn’t realized Natasha had entered his lab until she was standing right in front of him.

“Nat…I—” Tony said, cutting himself off. Not knowing how to proceed. “Just…” And then his shaky hands trailed over the mouse and hit play on a video he never wanted to see again, eyes squeezed shut in anticipation. 

“Is that…” Nat said after watching the chaos unfold on the screen in front of them.

Tony opened his eyes, noticing the slight tightening of her body language. But otherwise, her face was passive, not giving any emotion away.

“Yeah.” Tony looked into Nat’s eyes, hoping that his fear and desperation weren’t showing.

He knew they were though. Nat could read him like a book. She always understood him, sometimes in ways even Pepper couldn’t comprehend. And after a moment of silence where Tony was looking for courage, throat convulsing, he said, “Peter’s been kidnapped.”

A small pause came over the room, after which Nat nodded minutely. “I’ll tell the others.” She said, solemn. “You’re going to need all the help you can get.”

And then Tony watched her leave, Steve’s missing sketch book completely forgotten. And in some sort of way, he wished she wouldn’t have gone. Because for the first time in a long time, Tony felt so alone.

\--

The first thing Peter was aware of was talking. Crass, loud talking. The kind that run-of-the-mill villains and low-level criminals loved to participate in. The second thing was damp, mildew like air that felt like it was crawling all over his skin, sticking to it and making him feel chilly.

And then the pain came. Hot and pulsating, burning and throbbing all at once. He groaned involuntarily. He couldn’t move and everything felt so far away and out of his reach. Where was he? What happened?

“I thought you said the sedative would keep him out for hours, Alvin.” A voice said, the words finally making sense in his drugged and confused state. 

“It’s been hours, John.” That voice was different, gruffer and harder.

“More than _two_ , you idiot. And we’ve already given him two extra doses of the stuff.” 

“I didn’t ask how many hours it would last. Why does it matter? He didn’t wake up on the way here. It’s all good.”

“Well, I wanted him to stay dead to the world while we got everything set up.” The softer voice said. “I don’t want him trying to escape.”

Where was he? What was going on? Peter still had no idea what happened, and he couldn’t think straight. Not with all the pain he was in, stealing his attention and causing him to groan lowly.

“Open your eyes, Petey-Pie.” The gruff voice said. “It’s time to wakey, wakey.”

Peter knit his eyebrows together, trying to find the strength to peel back his lids. Wherever he was, it wasn’t somewhere familiar, that was certain. No one _ever_ called him Petey-Pie—not even May when he was five years old—and he hoped they never would again. It was gross. Weird.

“C’mon kid, we don’t have all day!”

“It’s probably better like this, Alvin. This way, he won’t resist.” That was the soft voice this time.

The gruff-voiced man huffed. “Alright. I’ll be back with the supplies.”

And after a short, quiet, peaceful moment without those annoying voices, Peter was suddenly being moved.

And it hurt. It hurt like nothing else he had ever felt before. His eyes shot open from the suddenness of the pain, from the confusion of going from throbbing pain all over to pain that felt like fire scorching through his bones.

Someone was screaming and it took him far too long to realize it was himself.

“Shut up you little shit!” The gruff voice said, slapping him across the face. A result that only made him scream harder from the pain of feeling his cheekbone shift and move at the sudden contact.

It had to be broken. A broken cheekbone….

And for some reason, that alone brought Peter clarity. He’d been hit by that Humvee on his way home from school. He’d been kidnapped by a masked man with a big-ass gun.

And then he’d been drugged.

Peter looked around properly for the first time. He was in some kind of warehouse, being carried by three men, all of them still wearing their ski masks from earlier. It was dark and damp, filled with mold and mildew. And it was abandoned, that was certain.

“Hello, Peter Parker.” The gruff voiced man said. “I’m glad you could join us.”

A chill ran down Peter’s spine. How did they know his name? Not just Peter. But they knew Peter _Parker._ And—and what if they knew he was Spider-Man? Oh, God, what if they knew that Spider-Man was Peter Parker? 

He had to get out of here.

He made an instinctual and sudden decision, one that, at the time, seemed like a good idea, but unfortunately came with almost immediate and lasting regret. A regret he would take into the hours, and days, ahead of him.

Peter began to wiggle and thrash around in the arms holding him, desperate to get away from their grip, get away from the warehouse entirely. The pain he was causing himself was the last thing on his mind, the relentless thought of _escape_ was pounding like a drum beat in his head.

And suddenly, he was free. The arms had let him go; the three assailants were nowhere to be found. But as he staggered to his feet, he immediately crumpled back to the floor as all-encompassing pain shot through his hip and pelvic area. Peter lay on the dusty and dirty floor, panting and groaning, trying to fill his lungs with air he couldn’t find. Something was really wrong. Something bad. His Spidey Sense was going off like an alarm bell in his head. Why couldn’t he get up off the floor? Why couldn’t he breathe? Did they drug him? He had to escape!

His answer came only a few moments after thinking the questions, a pair of black boots coming into his line of vision.

“Did you really think it would be that easy?” The now-familiar gruff voice said. “We can inject you with sedatives whenever we want. We have plenty.” He continued, dropping a recently emptied syringe at his feet. “Or, would you prefer we use the ol’ chloroform and rag like we did back in Queens? Either option works just fine.”

Then another pair of boots appeared, and Peter noticed that this time they were brown. “Just give it a few minutes, Peter. And then you’ll be out like a light. I hope you have sweet dreams.”

“How—” Peter croaked, trying to suck in air. “How…do you know…my name?”

The softer voiced man crouched down and began to whisper in his ear. “We have our resources. Sweet dreams, Petey-Pie.”

And that sickly-sweet voice combined with the terror and hopelessness filling his bones were the last things Peter registered before sinking into oblivion. 

He couldn’t escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well? What did you think? I would love to hear your reactions and thoughts. They feed the author! Stay tuned for the next chapter. ;)


	3. Ephemeral Abductions II

_“Good evening, everyone and welcome to WHiH Evening News. Tonight, we begin with some breaking news. A teenage boy was struck by a large, military grade vehicle in Astoria, Queens earlier today, and was then subsequently kidnapped by the occupants of the vehicle. This event has been trending on Twitter under the hashtag ‘hit and run kidnapping’ due to the large number of witnesses at the scene. We will now show some of the cell phone footage from witnesses, however, it is graphic, and viewer discretion is advised.”_

Harrison watched, both absorbed by the scene in front of him and on edge as the Parker kid was hit by a Humvee Alvin got from God-knows-where. He rolled up over the top and hit the ground with a thunk, the witnesses gasping and whispering among themselves. 

This was not good. It was a publicity nightmare. He specifically told Alvin not to injure the kid.

But then, in abject horror, Harrison watched them kidnap the kid right then and there. In front of everyone, putting a cloth over his mouth and nose to knock him unconscious and dragging his injured body into the awaiting vehicle. And even though it was impossible to tell who the assailants were with their ski masks on, it was still incredibly stupid and sloppy.

_“Police are currently working on the case and the boy has been identified as Peter Parker, age sixteen and a resident of Queens. If you have any information on the kidnappers or their motives, the NYPD asks that you come for—”_

The news anchor was cut off as Harrison pushed the power button on his TV remote. The device was shaking in his hand. He was fuming.

They fucked it up. They fucked all of it up. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. The media wasn’t supposed to get involved. Wilson could control a lot of things, but if he stifled the media coverage this early, things would become suspicious. He was wise enough to let it play out, but Harrison wasn’t a fool. He knew his head would be on the line for this.

The NYPD was no problem, after all, Wilson had many officers who were on his side, officers like Jeff Davis who could prolong the search for the kid long enough to get Stark to comply. But the media…they were in the spotlight. Wilson couldn’t threaten them the way he threatened officers and their families. 

Because it put all their operations on the brink. Inched everything a little too close to the surface.

It was time to make a phone call.

Harrison stood from the couch and rushed into his office, closing and locking the door behind him. Just to be safe. Eugene was home, but his disappointment of a son was so inattentive, he knew he wouldn’t care if he started yelling in his office.

This time, Alvin answered after the first ring. _“Yes, boss?”_

“Alvin! Explain yourself!” Harrison spat out.

_“Explain what?”_

Harrison groaned in frustration. “Explain why you decided it was a good idea to run the little punk over at a busy intersection in broad daylight.”

_“Our faces were covered. What’s the big deal?”_

“What’s the—” Harrison sighed. He was dealing with some real numbskulls. “You are on the news. This case has gone viral. Everyone and their dog recorded the kidnapping. Do you understand what this means?” 

_“You said you trusted us!”_ Alvin whined. _“We needed a quick and easy way to take the kid down!”_

“He’s a damn kid! And a scrawny one at that! You’re all muscle; you could’ve got him easy! You didn’t need to run him over with a fucking Humvee!”

_“Look, do you trust us or not? We got him out of the way and we’re getting ready to make the video for Stark. Is there anything important you need to tell us? You’re messing up our schedule.”_

“Your schedule is my schedule, okay? You will listen when I’m talking, and you will do what I tell you to do.” Harrison said, clenching his jaw and feeling his grip on sanity begin to edge closer and closer to the brink. “The media is involved, so we need to take this up a notch.” 

Alvin chuckled. _“Don’t you think I already took it up a notch by hitting him with the Humvee? He’s got lots of injuries…perfect for getting Stark to comply.”_

“I didn’t mean like that, you dolt! Because what happened when you did that, huh? The media got involved. The fucking media! Now, as long as you comply, we can get the NYPD to—”

_“Oh, we aren’t in New York City, boss.”_ Alvin said, cutting him off. 

Harrison’s blood ran cold. Ice was running through his veins. Alvin and his goons had been reliable before, what had come over them? What were they thinking? 

“What?” He ground out. “Where are you?” Hoping beyond hope that they were still in New York state.

_“Jersey. Union City to be precise.”_

“You took him into Jersey?!” Harrison yelled. “You are a goddamn fucking fool, Alvin! A fool!”

_“Why?”_ Alvin asked.

“Why?! Because you crossed state lines, that’s why! Kingpin has no jurisdiction in Jersey. I told you to stay in the state of New York, but you didn’t listen!”

_“But where could we have taken him?”_ Alvin said, sounding agitated. _“Stark’s compound is upstate!”_

Harrison was about to blow his top. Alvin couldn’t be that much of a moron, could he?

“The investigation could turn federal, Alvin! _Federal!_ Because you’re a fucking idiot and you crossed state lines! Not to mention this puts a hole in Kingpin’s carefully guarded crime world! Imagine if you get arrested. Then what happens? The Feds will put their grubby little mitts in Kingpin’s business. And then it’s my head. _My head!_ And that’s just the thing we were trying to avoid with this whole operation!”

_“I won’t get arrested, trust me.”_

Harrison scoffed. “Trust you? Oh, just like I trusted you to perform a _quiet_ and _clean_ kidnapping? One that didn’t cross state fucking lines?!?!”

_“But we really won’t get arrested, man. We’re hidden. Hidden real good.”_

“I can’t believe this.” Harrison muttered. “You better hope and pray this goes the way it’s supposed to, because if it doesn’t, the Kingpin will have all our hides for this!”

And then Harrison hung up the phone a little too forcefully. But he was angry. He was angry because he knew they were in trouble. He knew they were in deep shit.

\--

“—ison is mad we ran him over.” A voice said, filtering into Peter’s precarious grip on awareness.

Coming to consciousness wasn’t like last time, it wasn’t confusing and puzzling. He knew exactly where he was, and he knew exactly what happened.

“Why?” Another voice said, and Peter could tell it was the softer one from earlier.

“Apparently, it made the news. Boss is pissed. We need to be extra careful now.”

“So what if it made the news? Who cares?”

Peter let the voices fade into the background. He needed to orient himself, get himself back on track. Get the pain in his body and fogginess in his brain under control so he could come up with a plan. His surprise escape attempt obviously hadn’t worked. Considering he was still here, still with those voices. He needed to focus, steel himself, and come up with something better.

But he was in so much pain. It was worse than the last time he was conscious. It was consuming him, causing him to think about nothing else.

He groaned lowly and looked down, bowing his head out of exhaustion alone. It was then that he realized he was sitting in a chair. Tied to it. He was suddenly aware that his arms were pulled behind the back of the chair and tied into place, his dislocated shoulder and surely broken arm throbbing painfully with the beat of his heart. His legs were also tied—duct taped to be more specific—into place, the circulation in his ankles definitely in a precarious position.

And for the first time since being hit by the car and kidnapped, Peter felt real, unadulterated, mind-numbing fear. Fear that sought to consume every fiber of his being. Because he was gravely injured. He knew that. Not even his healing factor could fix these injuries without help. And how was he going to escape without being able to break out of simple, duct tape bonds? It would be more that foolish to try, he knew that. With these kinds of injuries, the only outcome would be further hurting himself. 

He didn’t even know why they took him. What they wanted. Mr. Stark always told him that if he ever got abducted, figuring out what the kidnappers wanted was always incredibly important. It could help him.

_Mr. Stark._ Peter had no idea how long it had been since being taken, but he knew the man had to be worried sick…and May! Oh, God. May had to be frantic.

_Calm down, Peter. You have to stay calm._ He told himself. It was imperative that he find out what his kidnappers were up to, just like Mr. Stark told him. He needed information if he wanted to ever get out of here.

Using as much strength as he could muster, Peter focused on the voices talking a few rooms over. Tuning his super hearing to their frequency, so to speak. 

“We need to contact Stark. Get that ransom money. I’m tired of babysitting this kid!” The voice Peter recognized as the softer one said, a hand slamming on a table with a thunk.

“We’ll contact him in just a little bit, John. Calm down.” That was the gruff voice.

So the soft voiced man was named John. Good to know.

“I really don’t feel good about kidnapping a defenseless kid.” A new voice interjected, one that was quiet and hesitant. Peter hadn’t heard before. “It’s one thing to abduct the rapists and murders we usually get asked to go after, but an innocent kid….”

This new information surprised Peter. They didn’t know he was Spider-Man. That could either be to his advantage or against it. He would have to think about what to do with that later.

“Do you want to take that up with Boss? Or Kingpin?” The gruff voice asked, seeming to jump down the other man’s throat.

A sharp pause came in the conversation then, bringing silence with it.

“I thought so.”

“You can’t question orders that come from Kingpin or his friends. You know that, Kevin. Your neck will be on the line.” John said, sounding almost apologetic. 

The Kingpin was involved? What was going on here? This couldn’t be good. Criminals the Kingpin had mysteriously released caused him a lot of problems in Queens. The identity of the shady gangster was something both he and Mr. Stark had wanted to get to the bottom of for a long time, but with little luck.

But listening in on the rest of the conversation to glean more information was shot when Peter made the decision to adjust his position on the chair, not realizing how painful it would be.

As he tried to sit up straighter and wiggle into a more comfortable position, his arm and hip protested violently, and a pulsing pain that caused his vision to white out ran through his whole body. He involuntarily cried out, a loud hiss of pain that was sure to alert the men in the other room. 

But the hiss of pain was more than an alert to his captors, it also served to cause him even greater anguish, reminding him of the broken cheekbone when he moved his mouth. The odd sensation of bones grinding against each other on his face effectively made him gag, gasp and sputter, only worsening the cycle of agony.

He took as many deep breaths as he could. He had to get himself together. He had to be ready for the men he was sure were about to come into the room.

And once he regained his composure, he was correct. He could hear frantic footsteps coming closer. 

The gruff voiced man was the first to speak. “He’s already awake? It’s only been, what? Thirty minutes?”

“I don’t know, man. Are you sure the dealers weren’t gypping you? They could’ve mixed it with saline to make it seem like the full dose…” John trailed off.

“At this point, I’m beginning to wonder.”

It wasn’t long after that when the three men burst into the room, all of them looking as intimidating as ever despite still wearing their ski masks.

“Hello, Petey-Pie!” The voice he now recognized as John’s said. “You’re awake again I see.”

Peter glared, fearing if he moved his mouth the pain in his face would increase.

“I think some introductions are in order.” The gruff voiced man began. “I’m Alvin and I’m the one in charge here. These are my p—”

“Your name’s Alvin?” Peter scoffed, interrupting the man and wincing as pain shot through his cheek. “And are those guys the chipmunks?” He asked, nodding to the two goons at Alvin’s side.

He couldn’t help it. He had to make jokes in times of stress. That’s just what he did. 

After a tense moment of silence where Peter began to regret speaking out, Alvin whistled. “This kid’s a mouthy one, isn’t he?”

“Yeah. Sure is.” John said, cracking his knuckles.

“Why don’t we teach him a lesson?” Alvin said, tone mocking as he crept closer. “After all, it isn’t good to talk back to adults, now is it?”

A cold feeling of dread crept through Peter, but he wasn’t about to give in. He had to stay strong, because if he didn’t, the fear would consume him.

“I can talk back to any adult who won’t show me respect.” Peter ground out, slurring his words a little as he tried to talk around his damaged cheek.

The resounding sound of a slap made its way through the room, causing Peter to cry out in agony and slump in his bonds. He was panting and gasping in the silence that followed, trying to regain his composure.

“Do that again,” John whispered in his ear, “and the consequences will be much, much worse. Do you understand me?”

Peter nodded, terrified and unable to speak.

A hand clenched around his dislocated shoulder, causing him to gasp and try to pull away.

“You will speak when spoken to.” John said. “Now say, yes sir.”

“Yes, sir.” Peter whispered, voice wavering. 

John’s eyes, just visible through the ski mask at this distance twinkled. “Good man.”

And after a small pause came over the room, Alvin rubbed his hands together. “Now, back to business. Listen up, Pete. As I was saying, my name is Alvin, and these are my partners John and Kevin.” He said, pointing to the goons at his side. “We need money from Tony Stark and through you, we are gonna get it. You will cooperate and you won’t put up a fuss. None of us want to deal with a hormonal teenager, so you need to be on your best behavior. Do I make myself clear?”

Peter gulped. He was really feeling the terror now. “Yes, sir.”

“Alright. John, Kevin, go get the filming equipment, we might as well shoot the video while we are here.”

Another wave of terror shot though Peter. A video? What video?

“Okay, boss.” John said, as he and Kevin left the room.

“Now, Pete.” Alvin said. “We are gonna shoot a nice little video for Stark here in just a minute. You better get your acting skills ready.”

And without warning, Peter was suddenly punched in the face, smack dab on his broken cheekbone. It caught him so far off-guard that he didn’t even have the breath to cry out at the sudden sting of pain. Instead, he found himself panting and gasping in the wake of the assault.

“Oh! You’re a natural!” Alvin said, laughing manically.

Peter was scared. He felt a chill come over him. He didn’t know how much longer he could take punches to the face before he was damaged for good. His healing factor was of no use when his injuries weren’t in the position to be healed in the first place. He had to get out of here, but he knew it was long past the time when he could rescue himself.

He had to hope and pray that Mr. Stark and the Avengers knew he was missing. He had to hope they were coming for him.

Peter looked up as John and Kevin re-entered the room, carrying a tripod stand, camera, microphone and studio lights. They were really going all out for this. It made Peter feel sick.

On the table in the corner of the room, John took some duct tape and a dirty-looking rag out of the pocket on his black cargo pants. It alarmed him almost immediately. Peter wasn’t stupid, he knew what was coming.

The new items seemed to perk Alvin’s interest. “Oh. I almost forgot. We don’t want you telling Stark anything that might help him find you, do we Petey-Pie?”

Peter didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to give in. He needed to put up one last fight until it would be too late, and he wouldn’t have the choice whether he could speak or not.

But then his head was being yanked back by the hair, Alvin’s masked face coming into view, the stench of his breath wafting to his nose. “Do we?” He said, venom and frustration in his voice. 

Peter gulped, trying to find his voice in a mouth that had suddenly become very dry. “No, sir.”

“Good.” Alvin released him from his grasp and stepped away. “John, gag him.”

And although Peter has suspected it, had tried to brace himself for it, he still wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready for John to stuff that disgusting rag in his mouth, causing him to gag and moan in pain as the movement jostled his broken bones. And he definitely wasn’t ready for a large piece of duct taped to be put over top of that, sticking oddly to his lips and skin and pulling at the cuts on his wounded face.

He moaned in protest, dismayed to find there was little sound that could be heard. He suddenly felt so much more violated and humiliated than he did before.

He was scared. Terrified.

Peter began to thrash around in his restraints. He had to get out of here. _Now._ He couldn’t do this any longer. He had to escape.

But just as quickly as the desire for freedom came, so did the indescribable pain. His cheek and face felt like they were being put through a blazing fire, the pain was cutting into him more violently than ever before. His hip and arm and shoulder screamed beyond belief. Screamed for release.

And Peter was left there. Stuck. Slumping in his restraints, head lulling and chin dipping into his chest, consciousness toying with him. 

Alvin laughed. A crooked, creepy smile donning his features, peeking from the mouth hole in his ski mask. “Perfect! Perfect!”

“Let’s roughen him up a little more. Make it look good for the video. Put him out of commission.” John added, cracking his knuckles in anticipation.

“He’s already out of commission. Look at him! He can’t even hold his head up anymore!” A new voice, who must have been Kevin, said.

It was the first time Peter ever heard him speak.

“Awww. Isn’t this sweet? Do you feel bad for him Kevin?” That was Alvin’s voice, Peter belatedly realized, the haze of pain and fear slowly consuming his mind.

“Look, man. I don’t think this is right. We were told to hold him until Stark gave the money. Boss didn’t say nothin’ about torture.”

Alvin gave a disgruntled huff. “Listen, Kevin. You need to shut the fuck up! I’m the boss here. Me! Yeah, we were _told_ to do this, but I’m the one in charge. I’m the one boss called. So, you better stop acting so reluctant and do your damn part. We are doing things _my way_ , and if you don’t like it, you can take it up with Kingpin.” 

“Fine.” Kevin ground out.

“Let’s get started. I don’t want another call from boss. We are already behind schedule.” Alvin said.

Up until that point, the conversation had been passively washing over Peter. He let himself be taken into his mind, far away from the pain and the terror and the annoying voices. But then he was brought back suddenly when John touched his shoulder, startling him and creepily whispering into his hear that he better look alive and get ready.

It wasn’t long after that when the stage lights were turned on, pointing directly toward him, basking him in their light and making him feel incredibly exposed.

A spotlight. One that was pointed directly at all the pain, confusion and sheer terror he was feeling.

One that would hopefully shine bright enough to send him home.

“Action!” Alvin gleefully yelled. 

And Peter closed his eyes.

He didn’t want anyone to see him like this.

Especially not Mr. Stark.

\--

“Turn the lights down, FRI.” Tony said, rubbing at his temples.

The beginnings of a migraine headache were taking shape behind his left eye, the pounding in his head increasing by the second.

He’d been holed up in his lab for hours now. The sky was dark and littered with stars, it was his only indication of the passage of time. The stars were a sight he never could have dreamed of witnessing in the city. But out here, upstate at the compound, the universe was expansive. Large. It felt like he could be swallowed up whole and never found again. Taken.

Peter was somewhere out there. Just out of his reach.

He was trying desperately to find answers. Trying to figure out where the goons could have gone, where they could have taken Peter after abandoning the Humvee.

It seemed as if they just disappeared. Gone without a trace.

The police had contacted him earlier. And during a long and painful phone call, they told him Peter’s watch was found in the vehicle, along with his blood. Blood from injuries that were sustained when being hit by the car. The only DNA evidence that he’d ever been there.

There were also several rags with chloroform residue, a compound which Tony had quickly tested and traced to a shady underground drug lab in the Bronx. But there was no other DNA, none from the kidnappers. They were being cautious. Careful.

A case had been opened. One that had already gone public because of the hashtag trending on Twitter. The police had already held a press conference on the matter, they told the public to stop sharing the video. It made Tony’s head hurt. He didn’t want the world to know what Peter Parker meant to him. Who he was. And even though the kid’s secret identity would be protected, Tony knew Peter Parker would never want to be famous.

It just wasn’t him. It wasn’t something a shy kid like him ever wanted. He wore a mask for a reason.

He was still panicking, still on edge. But he had to push through for Peter. Because there was no way he would let his kid be gone for any longer than he had to. He had to make his time worthwhile, especially since Natasha called Pep behind his back. Because now his fiancée was coming home from her business conference just because he couldn’t keep it together. Or, Natasha _thought_ he couldn’t keep it together.

A knock on one of the glass doors to his lab startled him, and he looked up to find May and Happy standing there, grim and slightly scared looks on their faces. May’s brow was furrowed, and she looked as if she’d been crying.

They finally arrived.

“Let them in, FRIDAY.” He said to the ceiling, standing and making his way toward the couple.

“Tony, are you all right?” May asked, grabbing one of her hands into his own and squeezing it in that comforting way she always did when Peter was hurt or sick or struggling with his mental health.

_This woman._ Seriously. She was asking _him_ how he felt when it was her nephew who was kidnapped?

“Yeah, May. I’m—”

“No, you’re not.” She interrupted, eyes glistening with tears. 

Tony deflated, sighing. “Yeah…”

“FRIDAY told us you contacted the police.” Happy said after a moment of silence.

Tony nodded. “I did. And they already had a press conference.” 

“We need to do the same.” Happy replied.

“Pep is on her way home, she’ll handle it. Natasha called her behind my back.”

“It was probably for the best, Boss.” Happy said, patting him on the shoulder.

And Tony was loathed to admit it, but Happy was right. He needed Pepper. More than ever. He needed her to take him in her arms and tell him everything was going to be okay, tell him that they would find Peter and get his life back on track.

She knew how to point Tony in the right direction. She knew how to help him stay focused.

He really did need her. Desperately. 

“We should really start preparing for it now.” Happy continued. “Did you watch the NYPD press conference?”

Tony shook his head. He didn’t have time to watch some petty briefing when Peter was gone, injured and probably terrified.

Happy cringed. “Well…the police might have let it slip that you were the one to alert the authorities…”

“And now the internet is speculating that Peter is your illegitimate child.” May added.

Tony’s blood went cold. This? Really? On top of everything else? “May…I am so sorry.” He said.

May held up a hand. “Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.”

“But they should have been more professional…they should have—” 

“Tony!” May snapped, clearly wanting to let herself be heard over Tony’s incessant thoughts. “There is nothing you can do. Let’s just focus on getting Peter home.”

Tony took a deep breath and put his head in his hands, rubbing at his tired eyes. “You’re right. We need to—”

“Boss, I have an incoming message you need to take a look at.” FRIDAY interrupted. “Would you like me to project it onto the monitor closest to you?”

“Yeah, FRI.”

And without warning a video popped up on his screen. One that, upon beginning to play, made his heart stutter in his chest, a wave of nausea overtaking him.

Because there was Peter. Sitting, beaten and bloody and tied to a chair, hair tussled and a gag around his mouth in the form of duct tape and a cloth. His eyes were squeezed shut and a look of absolute petrification and fear marred his features. He looked as if he was bracing for a blow or strike from someone hidden in the shadows.

He heard May gasp behind him, heard the quiet inhale of Happy’s breath. But he couldn’t focus on any of that. It was simply in the background. Because he couldn’t pay attention to anyone else when he was seeing Peter’s face for the first time since this whole ordeal started.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t suck in a single molecule of air.

_“Stark.”_ A masked voiced spoke from Peter’s right, coming into frame.

And what Tony saw next caused him to stumble on his feet. He would have fallen had Happy not been there to catch him.

The man stepped into frame and cocked a shimmering, golden pistol, positioning it on Peter’s temple, finger resting gently on the trigger.

Peter opened his eyes then. Startled. And Tony wished he hadn’t. Because the sheer terror he saw there was enough to break him into a million tiny little pieces. Shatter him to bits. 

The scene in front of him was transpiring in startling, HD clarity. The room was incredibly well lit, glistening from powerful beams of light.

It had to be on purpose.

_“Listen up, Stark. I will blow this little twerp’s brains out if you don’t do exactly what I tell you to. I will kill him. Kill him dead.”_ The man said, shoving the pistol further into Peter’s temple. _“You understand?”_

Tony gulped. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be real. It had to be some strange, twisted nightmare his brain came up with.

May was sobbing now, he could hear her sharp intakes of breath, hyperventilating. But he knew if he looked at her, he wouldn’t be able to look back at the screen in front of him. So instead, he stared straight ahead. Right into Peter’s wide, terrified eyes. Eyes that were begging for help.

_“Good.”_ The masked man nodded, taking the pistol away from Peter’s head. Tony didn’t miss the look of relief in Peter’s eyes and in his body language. The way he let out a breath he must have been holding.

_“We need four million dollars ASAP, and it will be coming from your personal bank account. If you do exactly what we say, you can have your kid back. If you don’t…well…this glock hasn’t been used yet and he’s a viable candidate for the first blood.”_ The man continued, gesturing to Peter and laughing gleefully.

Tony’s vision was tunneling. He couldn’t believe anything he was seeing and hearing. It felt surreal. It felt like he wasn’t even in his own head any longer. He needed to contact the police again. He needed to tell them what was happening. He needed to—

_“The first thing you will do is grab the burner phone we are providing you with. It’s under a bush in a carboard box by the front gate of your compound. If you do anything to it, add tracking tech, give it to the police, anything, there will be dire consequences.”_ The man instructed. _“You will also not try to track this video message. You will not search for an IP address.”_

“FRI—” Tony said, mouth chalky and dry as the Sahara. “FRIDAY stop the search. We can’t—Peter—”

“Already done, Boss.”

_“This is our phone number, listen closely. 718-507-1967. But we will call you. You are not allowed to call us under any circumstances. You cannot tell us to hurry, you cannot talk to Peter, you cannot call anyone else, you cannot give our number to the police. We will know. We will call you. Peter will die if you call us. Understood?”_

A sick feeling swept up Tony’s stomach. He felt as if he was about to throw up. They were giving him the number just to torture him. Just to let him feel a minute amount, a sliver of the actual pain and fear Peter was feeling. They just wanted to mess with him.

They were providing him with a way to contact them, but he wasn’t allowed to use it.

_“Oh! I almost forgot!”_ The sick and twisted individual on the screen in front of him exclaimed. _“You cannot and will not send your silly band of Avengers to come look for the kid. We have eyes and ears everywhere. We will know if they’ve left that compound of yours and we will presume that any departures are a search party no matter what they are leaving for or how many of them depart.”_

He’d have to call off the search party Nat was organizing. He couldn’t let Peter die. He couldn’t let him experience anything worse than he already was.

_“And remember, if you don’t follow my directions exactly, I will blow Petey-Pie’s brains out. And they’ll splatter all over this nice, dusty floor.”_ The man smiled and Tony felt sick. Slimy. _“Turn off the video.”_ He said, gesturing to one of his guys.

But just as the screen was about to go dark, Peter began to struggle and twist in his restraints, a muffled scream emerging from his gaged mouth.

A scream that sounded a lot like ‘Mr. Stark!’

A slap across the face and a grunt of pain followed, cutting sharply into Tony’s ears, emotionally paining him.

And then the video ended, the screen went black. A thick, oppressive silence only punctured by May’s wretched, anguished sobs followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I may or may not have named that goon Alvin solely for the Alvin and the Chipmunks joke. *shrugs* lol.   
> \--  
> In all seriousness though, the phone number Peter's kidnappers list off in this chapter was chosen for a reason. The first three digits, 718, are simply a Bronx area code since Tony mentions the sedatives used on Peter came from an underground lab in the Bronx. I kind of headcanon that the three goons are from there as well. But even more significant are the rest of the numbers. 507-1967 refers to the first issue of The Amazing Spider-Man that the Kingpin appeared in! It was issue number 50, and was published in July (month 7) 1967.   
> \--  
> Thank you so much for reading and having an interest in this story! I really appreciate all the feedback and I'm glad people are as excited about this as I am! Please leave a comment and tell me what you thought! They feed my soul and help me to write the chapters faster. 
> 
> Stay tuned for the next chap! :) <3


	4. Ephemeral Abductions III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I’m sorry for such a short chapter. This chapter was originally the beginning of a much larger chapter (one that was around 7k). But I decided to split it because I felt like that was too long. Unfortunately, because of the way the scenes are, I had to split it unequally. If I put a couple more things in this chapter to make it longer, it would not have flowed well...you'll understand what I mean when I post the next chapter. That's why this one is so short. Because of this, I plan on posting the next chapter in a few days time, and it will be around 5k. I hope you all enjoy this chapter regardless! :)  
> \--  
> I've also had a few people ask about my update schedule. I don't have a set schedule, but my goal is to post at least 1 (one) chapter a month, sometimes you may get more than that, but sometimes you may not. It totally depends on what things are going on in my real life. But don't worry, I'm very passionate about this project and I'm also very stubborn lol. I will see this to the end, no matter what. 
> 
> So, without further ado, let's get started! :)

Flash stared listlessly out his bedroom window. He couldn’t concentrate. He would rather be doing literally anything else than English homework. It was his worst subject by far. The sky was already dark, which meant it had to be at least past six, which in turn meant he’d been staring at his literature textbook for about three hours, trying to glean something from it, trying to write his stupid assignment on Edgar Allen Poe.

In math class, he could concentrate just fine, he could do his homework speedily and getting good grades was effortless. But in the subjects that were harder for him, in the subjects that were boring as hell, getting his homework done and paying attention in class were like pulling teeth.

Flash thudded his forehead against his desktop. There was no use! He couldn’t do this anymore! He’d been trying for hours to finish this assignment with no success.

He looked over at his bed, cell phone sitting on top of it. It was practically calling his name. The Spider-Man Instagram page he ran needed a lot of his time and attention after all. He almost had forty thousand followers, and sure, he bought some of them, but most of them were New York natives who also loved the web-slinging hero.

He would never admit it to his friends at school, but he was secretly obsessed with Spider-Man. Like super obsessed. Like they didn’t understand his level of obsession. And although he was pretty public with his Instagram account, even going so far as to call his followers the Flash Mob, no one at school knew he had the account. At least, he didn’t think so. He hadn’t told anyone. And no one paid attention to him unless he was causing trouble anyway.

Well, Ned, Betty and MJ knew about the account. But that was only because they got stuck with him during their disastrous school field trip to Europe last year.

No one needed to know about that.

It had been about nine months since then and he was still on cloud nine about the fact that Spider-Man watched his live streams. _Spider-Man._ Spider-Man liked him! He knew who he was!

It was hard to believe.

He wondered what the web-slinging hero was like in person. Was he as funny and kindhearted as people said he was? Was his suit as cool as all the pictures made it out to be? Or was it even better in person? What did he do in his free time? Did he have a family? Was he married? He seemed like he was in his twenties though, so probably not.

And sure, Flash had encountered him at the Washington Monument, but it wasn’t like he could pay attention to all that stuff and ask all his questions when he was about to plunge to his death.

And while it was amazing and incredible that Spider-Man watched his live streams, it was even more insane that Spider-Man saved his life!

Flash didn’t think he would ever get over that. 

Deciding to abandon his homework, Flash went over to his bed and plopped down with a thunk. There was no way he could get anything done if he was thinking about Spider-Man.

But when he opened the Instagram app, fully intending to start another live stream for everyone who followed Spideyno1fan_, he was bombarded by posts from his classmates. Usually their posts held little to no interest for him, but these ones caught his eye.

Everyone was posting pictures of Peter Parker. Peter fucking Parker!

Ugh. Everything about Parker annoyed him, but more than anything he was jealous he knew Tony Stark. He knew Tony Stark and could literally ask him anything about Spider-Man, but he didn’t even seem to care about the local hero. It was ridiculous!

And just as he was about to scroll past Cindy Moon’s random ass picture of Parker, the caption caught his eye.

 _sending out good vibes for my friend peter, hope he’s found soon!!! #prayforpeter_ 🙏💖

Hope he’s found soon? #prayforpeter? What did that mean? Scrolling down a little further, Flash came upon a post by the Daily Bugle. And what he saw next caused him to knit his eyebrows together. It was a short clip of J. Jonah Jameson speaking to the camera.

_“J. Jonah Jameson here with a breaking development! A young man by the name of Peter Parker was hit by a car and kidnapped in Queens this afternoon. The NYPD have begun searching for the boy, but I’m here to tell you the masked menace Spider-Man is behind this! The increasing number of kidnappings in the city can only be attributed to one thing! One person! And that is Spider-Man! The vengeful vigilante has continued to—”_

Flash closed the Instagram app. There was only so much of Jameson he could take. The guy was a bastion of fake news and had some seriously ridiculous takes on Spider-Man.

But none of that was important right now. It wasn’t important because he just found out Parker was kidnapped. He was kidnapped _and_ hit by a car! And he was still missing.

He honestly had no idea what to do with that information. Sure, he felt bad for Parker, but it wasn’t like there was anything he could do. Besides, bad luck seemed to follow his classmate wherever he went. He lost his parents in a plane crash, then his uncle got shot in front of him, then every time he or anyone else in the class spotted Spider-Man on a field trip, Parker was always a day late and a dollar short when it came to seeing the spandex clad hero.

Even Leeds had met Spider-Man.

But regardless of all of Parker’s troubles, Flash would take those any day to his shitty home life and plunging grades. At least Parker’s aunt cared about him. And yeah, getting kidnapped didn’t sound ideal, but Parker knew Tony Stark, and if Flash knew anything about Tony Stark, he knew he always came to the rescue of those he cared about.

Parker would be _fine._

\--

White noise filled Tony’s ears. The only things he could hear were his uneven, panic-filled breaths and May’s horrible, gut-wrenching sobs. This was just like Afghanistan. This was just like being held in that godforsaken cave for all those months.

But in a way, it was so much worse. It was worse because Peter was just a kid, a kid that was on his way home from school. He didn’t willingly go to a war-torn country; he wasn’t selling weapons to the United States military. He was in his city, in his borough and he was taken anyway.

Just because some disgusting freaks found out Peter knew him.

He had to choke back his sobs. He couldn’t delve into complete panic. Not now.

Tony wasn’t ready for any of this. Nothing happening right now, and none of the fallout that was sure to come when they got Peter back. They would get him back. It wasn’t a question.

Because you didn’t just get kidnapped and go back to normal. You didn’t just shake it off and get on with your life. Tony knew that. He was reminded of it every day, every day for the past ten years. _Ten years._

Some psychotic losers took Peter just because they wanted his money. They wanted four million dollars and they were willing to use Peter to achieve that goal. Four fucking mill—

 _Wait._ Was it really just four million? Because he could do four million. He could do four million seven days a week for five years and still have money left over.

“FRIDAY.” He choked out. “How much money did they want?”

He had to check. He had to make sure it wasn’t some sort of pipe dream his rattled brain had conjured up. 

“Four million, Boss.” FRIDAY answered after a moment.

At that, a whirlwind of hope swept through Tony’s body and he stood, suddenly finding a strength he didn’t have before.

An anchor. Something tangible.

“May.” He panted, moving over to the sobbing woman’s side. “Happy. It’s just four million. Just four. We can do that. We can give them four million.”

“What? Tony, no!” May exclaimed, stuffy nosed.

Tony looked at her like she’d grown two heads. “I’m a billionaire, May. Four million is nothing to me.”

“Are you sure that’s the best option, Tony? Shouldn’t we contact the police?” Happy asked.

“Of course I’m going to contact the police, Hap. But I want—we all want—Peter to come home ASAP.”

“They have ransom protocols.” May said, wiping the tears from her face, the strong and determined look returning in full force. “Ben…he was on the force. He had to work on a few of those cases where—” She cut herself off, gulping forcefully.

And Tony knew how hard it was to say that word. How hard it was when it was your kid that was out there, in an unknown state having the most harrowing experience of his life so far, possibly ever.

It was, after all the worst thing Tony had ever experienced. Not even the window to the universe and the stars in his eyes during the battle of New York came anywhere close to being held in captivity.

“Anyway.” May continued, clearing her throat. “You are going to want to talk to the police. They will help you make the best decision for Peter.”

Tony nodded. He wanted to thank May. Give her his appreciation for being such a rock, such a strength, when it was her nephew out there. But he couldn’t find his voice.

It didn’t matter in the end though, because the next second FRIDAY was alerting him to Nat’s search party trying to leave the building.

“Shit.” Tony said, jumping to his feet. “FRIDAY, do _not_ let them leave! Tell them I’m coming to talk to them.” And then addressing the couple at his side he said, “I’ve gotta make sure they—they don’t—” 

“Go.” May said, eyes sad but full of compassion. “We’ll be here. We’ll wait.”

Tony nodded. And then he turned on his heel, completely unready for the conversation he was about to have.

\--

The Quinjet was parked on the open, grassy field that was the front lawn of the compound. It was still pitch dark outside and Tony halfheartedly wondered what time it was. It was probably at least past midnight by now, but he honestly had no idea how long he’d been inside, watching the worst video he’d ever seen and choking back his fear and panic.

As Tony approached the aircraft, he could see several members of the team loitering inside, illuminated by the florescent lighting in the cabin and the cargo hold.

And as he cautiously approached the Quinjet, he thought about how difficult and grueling the upcoming conversation would be. He didn’t want to talk about what just happened. He didn’t want to relive any of it. And telling the team what he just saw was going to be beyond horrifying and arduous. He just knew it.

But here he was, about to do the unthinkable because Peter’s safety and security was infinitely more important than his emotional well-being.

 _Here goes nothing._ He thought.

“Tony, I told you _we’re_ doing this. You don’t need to come.” Natasha said, looking up as Tony stepped foot at the base of the cargo hold.

“You can’t go out.” He said, surprised at the strength and authority in his voice. And surprised at how quickly he was cutting to the chase, how little he was beating around the bush.

A tense silence came over the Quinjet after Tony’s declaration. Everyone had stopped conversing with each other, everyone had stopped rustling pages and moving weapons and other items into the storage space. 

It suddenly put Tony on edge.

“Why?” Steve asked, stepping forward and knitting his eyebrows together in concern. “Nat told us Peter’s been—”

Tony cut in, interrupting. He didn’t want to hear that dreaded word ever again. “Because the guys—the ones holding Peter—they said they’d—they’d…”

Tony couldn’t say it. He couldn’t finish his sentence. This word was even worst than the last. 

Steve placed a comforting hand on Tony’s shoulder, his voice calm and reassured in a way that made Tony’s jaw clench. “Tony, whatever it is, don’t worry. We can do it undercover, we can—”

“No! You can’t!” Tony cried, voice rising in utter desperation. “They will kill him, Steve! _Kill him!_ ”

The silence that followed such a strong statement was thick and oppressive. No one in the room seemed to be breathing, all holding their emotions and thoughts behind an invisible barrier. Behind an invisible wall. 

Tony couldn’t even believe he found the courage to say it. It made his stomach churn and his breath catch in his throat. 

“Hold on, Tones.” Rhodey said, finally breaking the ice. “Come sit down. Let’s start from the beginning.”

Tony didn’t want to start from the beginning, but he couldn’t protest. He felt numb, he felt like he was on autopilot. He let himself be guided to one of the seats in the corner of the cargo bay and sat when Rhodey told him to. There was no getting out of any of this at this point, he had to try his best to explain.

He had to do it for Peter.

No matter how painful it was. 

And when he took a deep breath, for the first time, Tony truly looked around, noticing the group of heroes who were gathered together in the cargo hold. They were ready to fight, ready to save his kid from the clutches of such evil men. Everyone who lived at the compound was present, along with Rhodey and, surprisingly, Clint. He was sure even T’challa and Shuri would have flown halfway across the world if they didn’t have other duties to attend to.

“You all came? All of you came to help find Peter?” His voice broke a little. 

“Of course we did, Tones.” Rhodey said, eyes kind.

“Peter is one of us. We will do anything to protect him. You know that.” Bruce added.

“I have to protect him.” Wanda said, voice full of passion and eyes glistening with tears. “After Pietro died, I needed a little brother. And Peter is that little brother to me.”

Tony felt his throat close up. Peter didn’t come to the compound often. It was so far away from Queens, and when he and Tony worked in the lab together, it was usually in the lab at his Manhattan penthouse. And some of the Avengers present in the room had only met Peter once or twice, such as Clint, Sam and Bucky.

Tony looked at the ground, despondent and anxious all in one. “Thank you.” He finally said. “Thank you. All of you. But I can’t let you go.”

“Start at the beginning, Stark. Tell us what’s going on.” Clint said, perching himself on top of a box of supplies and looking Tony straight in the eyes.

It was unsettling.

“Please, Tones.” Rhodey said. “We gotta know what we’re working with.”

Tony sighed.

And then he spoke.

And he told them everything. He told them all about the video with every detail he could muster up the courage to talk about. He had to stop several times, and he bit back tears more than once, but he had to do it. He had to do it for Peter.

Because he needed to bring Peter home.

“Look, Tony.” Steve said after Tony was finished telling his harrowing tale. “Whatever they said to you, whatever they threatened you with, just remember they need Peter alive. They need him for collateral or else they aren’t going to get the money from you.”

“You don’t think I don’t know that, Spangles?” Tony bit back, patience wearing thin.

_Why couldn’t they just listen to him for once?_

“We just want you to think about this logically—”

“Logic?!” Tony all but yelled, jumping to his feet and trying to hold himself back from screaming in Steve’s face. “What’s the point of logic when your kid is getting tortured by a bunch of sadistic assholes? Huh?”

The room was quiet after that and Tony began to pace around, his anxiety and fear not letting him hold still for a second longer.

“Well, what are you gonna do? How are you gonna get him back if we don’t go look for him?” Clint asked, arms folded over his chest and a slightly annoyed look on his face.

“Clint!” Tony exclaimed, rounding on the man. “You seriously can’t tell me that if one of your kids was in Peter’s position you would go out there to look for them even though it _you knew_ it would be the cause of merciless torture. Would you?”

And after a moment of silence from Clint that spoke volumes, Tony said, “I thought so.”

“Tony, I know this is a difficult situation, and I can’t imagine what you are feeling right now, but _please_ think this through. Please let us help you.” Sam said, stepping forward.

And Tony thought he heard a tinge of pity in his voice. It caused a sudden bout of anger to rise up in him. Coming from somewhere he didn’t even understand.

“I did think it through, Sam. It’s done. It’s decided. Remember, I’m the one who owns this building you all live in. I’m the one who makes monthly payments to SHIELD for this Quinjet and all your other fancy little gadgets.” Tony said. “FRIDAY, initiate Shutdown Protocol. And do _not_ let Vision override it.”

And as Tony walked out of the Quinjet and back onto the grass, the lights inside the aircraft went dark, the team grumbling inside.

He would not let Peter continue to get tortured and terrorized.

Not for one second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, Cindy Moon's Instagram caption cannot be attributed to me. First of all, I’m not Gen Z, so I don’t really “get” all the nuances of how the kids talk these days (wow that sentence makes me sound old, lmao!). But second of all, I’ve never had an Instagram account so I don’t know how that works either lol. My original caption for Cindy Moon’s post was…not good to say the least. So I need to say a big thank you to [Kaybee988](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaybee988/pseuds/kaybee988/works) for helping me come up with a better one, and [sympathize](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sympathize/pseuds/sympathize/works) for refining it to be in perfect Gen Z language. Thank you both!  
> \--  
> When Tony says he could give the kidnappers four million dollars seven days a week for five years, this is 100% correct because I’m a perfectionist and did the math for a single line lol. *whispers* I don’t know how to let things go. According to Google, Tony Stark’s net worth is 12.4 billion. So, if he pays the kidnappers four million every day for five years, he will be left with 5.1 billion dollars! Still a billionaire! As a poor college student who can’t even afford the latest Spidey comics, this is crazy to me!  
> \--  
> Thank you so much for reading, and please leave me a comment and tell me what you thought! :) <3


	5. Ephemeral Abductions IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second part of the previous chapter that I decided to split in two. I hope you all enjoy! :)  
> \--  
> CONTENT WARNING: In this chapter there are some very graphic scenes that deal with “supposed” major character death. Two of these characters are NOT dead (the other is already canonically dead), but the character whose point of view these scenes are from thinks they are. These scenes are very graphic and gruesome. If you do not want to read such graphic scenes, skip the large blocks of text that are italicized. You have been warned.

The heavy metal door creaked on its hinges, and a pair of boots pattered along the floor towards the slumped figure in the chair.

Peter moaned softly at the noise; his voice still obscured by the gag in his mouth. It had been hours since the video was made, hours that he sat, somewhat coherent and wondering what would happen, wondering how Mr. Stark would rescue him when every fathomable roadblock had been put in his way.

Peter decided then and there to lock the fear in the back of his mind, to put it behind a concrete wall and not let it out. Because he didn’t know how long he would be stuck like this. He didn’t know how long until his plethora of injuries could be treated, and he could get some real sleep. He didn’t know when—or if—he would be rescued at all. Fear was an emotion he could deal with later, but for now, he had to gather as much strength and bravery as he could muster.

He looked up at the figure coming towards him, crossing the wide expanse of the warehouse room. Pain shot through his cheek and shoulder as he looked into silver-blue eyes he recognized as John’s.

“Hello Petey-Pie! I brought you a present.”

Peter raised an eyebrow, hoping the expression on his face was more on the defiant side than the scared one.

John just chuckled.

“Trying to be brave, huh?” The man said, stepping closer and adjusting an intimidating-looking gas mask on his face. “Well, I got just the thing to prove that.”

He pulled two glass vials filled with light pink gas out of his pocket. They glimmered as the florescent lightbulbs shined on them.

Peter gulped. If that was what he thought it was…

“A friend of ours let us borrow these.” John said with a smile, dropping both vials on the floor, letting them shatter, the gas quickly filling the room. “I think you might have heard of him, Petey-Pie. Stark’s little pet Spider-Man recently put him away in Rikers. Does that jog your memory? It made the news.”

Peter wanted to ask him how he got them, how those horrible things were even available since Mysterio was locked away in prison. But he couldn’t speak around the gag, he couldn’t protest. He couldn’t even beg—even an action so primal and barbaric was taken from him.

And then John backed away, turning on his heel to leave the room. “Have fun!” He called, doing a mock salute when he reached the door.

And Peter was sure if he could see his mouth beyond the gas mask, there would have been a sick and twisted smile there.

The gas was beginning to fill up the room, the pink fog obstructing his vision. He knew what was coming, he knew in just a matter of minutes it would begin to mess with his mind. And although his mouth was obstructed by the gag, his nose wasn’t. It was vulnerable and there was nothing he could do to stop breathing in the substance.

And he knew whatever was coming wasn’t real—couldn’t be real. But it would look real, it would _feel_ real. All five senses would experience whatever Mysterio’s gas decided to torture him with and he wouldn’t be able to escape. No matter what.

He wasn’t ready.

And then the air shifted. The temperature changed. And his breath was stuck in his chest.

It was beginning.

\--

“Wake up, honey.” A voice said, jolting Tony into sudden consciousness.

He tried to regain his bearings and force his breaths into an even pattern as he looked wildly around the room, almost toppling off the stool he was sitting on.

He had been dreaming after somehow falling asleep at one of the tables in his lab, the emotional and physical exhaustion of trying to find Peter finally getting to him, the difficult conversation with the team sapping his energy completely.

The dream—the nightmare—whatever it was, felt so real. Felt so tangible. Everything was vivid and convincing and harrowing at the same time. Because in his dream, Peter died in captivity. He died with those men as the last thing he saw.

He gasped involuntarily at that thought, trying to find something, or someone, to focus on. To get him out of his head. He couldn’t afford to think about something so gruesome and harrowing as that any longer.

That was when he noticed Pepper for the first time, standing at his side and looking just as exhausted as he felt, the emotions of sadness and pity present on her face.

“Pep…You’re back.” He finally said.

His fiancée nodded, looking as grim as ever. “I know what happened. Even before Natasha called me. It’s all over the news.”

Tony sighed. “Even internationally? This made international news?”

“It did.” Pepper said, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder and sitting on a stool across from him. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I just—”

“You thought you could handle it yourself.” It wasn’t a question. Instead, it was a more of a resigned statement.

It wasn’t surprising honestly. That Pepper was so resigned to his antics after all these years.

“You need sleep, Tony. Proper sleep. You look like hell.” Pepper continued. “We need to discuss some things, talk about how we are going to proceed, but I refuse to do it until you get some real rest.”

“But I—I need to find Peter! I have to get him out of there…I can’t stop! Every minute we waste is another minute of pain and fear for the kid!”

“It’s not _I_ , Tony. It’s _we_.” Pepper said, leveling him with her most intimidating gaze. “We all want Peter back. We all want him to be safe. But you can’t do this alone. You have to let us help you.”

“But Pep—”

Pepper held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks. “No buts. You can’t help Peter if you don’t help yourself first and you know it. Now, I want you to get some sleep—at least eight hours—and we can discuss this more tomorrow. Okay?”

Tony sighed. There was no winning an argument with Pepper, no matter how hard he tried and no matter how sure he was right.

“Fine.” He ground out. “But if anything important happens, _anything_ , you have to wake me up.”

“I will.” Pepper nodded. “Let’s get you to bed.” 

\--

_May was smiling. Beaming. Her hair was blowing softly in the wind. It was a calm and beautiful day and the sun was shining brightly. Glistening off the windows of the buildings._

_“I love you, Peter. I love you so very much.” She said, tightly grasping his hands in hers._

_And for some reason, she was crying. Not robustly, not with loud, anguished sobs, but with silent tear tracks smudging her makeup and straying down her face._

_It confused Peter._

_What was there to cry about?_

_It was a beautiful, peaceful day._

_But suddenly, everything shifted. Everything changed. Peter’s Spidey-Sense came to life at the speed of light, a speed so utterly incomprehensible and unfathomable._

_But it still wasn’t fast enough._

_A familiar figure appeared behind his aunt, green eyes staring him down and causing him to stumble backwards, only barely catching his footing._

_It was the Vulture._

_Adrian Toomes._

_Liz’s dad._

_And then without warning, the tip of one of his vibranium wings pierced through May’s back, coming out the other side, making a reappearance at the front of her body._

_Blood instantly soaked down her front and exited her mouth, drippling from her chin._

_Her hands and arms went limp, and her head lolled as Toomes held her slightly off the ground with the wing that was sticking through her body._

_This was his worst nightmare. This was never supposed to happen. Everything he did, why he did it, it was all for her. All to protect her. And somehow, he’d been caught off guard, even though he never allowed his guard to be let down._

_Failure._

_That’s what it was._

_He was simply out, strolling the streets of New York City with May on a beautiful, sunny day, enjoying the peace of just being Peter Parker when his old foe reemerged, ready for a fight._

_Just Peter Parker._

_Just Peter Benjamin Parker._

_He didn’t even have his web shooters._

_“Good afternoon, Pedro.” Toomes said, the glowing green eyes mocking him. “I told you, didn’t I? I told you if you mess with me, I will kill everyone you love.”_

_And then he shoved his wing further through May’s chest, causing her body to jerk and shutter. And Peter couldn’t look away. He couldn’t look away for one second, despite how brutal and barbaric it was, despite the horror of it._

_She couldn’t speak, she couldn’t make a sound. But Peter knew she was terrified, he saw her fear._

_It was in her eyes._

_And on an empty street at broad daylight, he had to watch the life slowly fade away from her expressive brown orbs. He had to look at them as they turned glassy and dull. And then he had to look upon the glowing green that would forever haunt his memory._

\--

When Tony woke the next morning, comfortable and cozy in his luxury bed, he had a blissful moment of unknowing. One where he forgot all about the previous day. A day that was filled with nightmares that were unfortunately a stark and clear reality.

He laid for a moment, stretching his limbs and yawning, thinking about how it was Wednesday. Thinking about how he and Peter were going to have so much fun in the lab this evening.

_Peter. Oh, God. Peter!_

And then the moment of blissful unawareness was gone, and the bleak, horrendous reality returned.

Tony jumped out of bed. He needed to get back to work. He couldn’t waste any more time than he already had by sleeping—something Peter was sure to be deprived of in captivity.

He prattled into the kitchen, finding Pepper there, already dressed to the nines and nursing a cup of coffee while watching the train wreck of news coverage Tony wished he could forget about.

“Hi, honey.” He mumbled, beginning to brew his own cup of joe.

“Did you sleep well?” His fiancée asked.

“Well enough.”

Seemingly satisfied with his answer, Pepper hummed, turning her attention back to the screen in front of her. And after a few quiet minutes, after Tony finished brewing his coffee and came to sit next to her, she spoke, telling Tony something that made his stomach drop to his ankles. 

“I’ve scheduled a press conference for this evening. And I need you to attend.”

“Wha—why?” Tony stammered, totally taken aback.

“You were the one to alert the police and you are the one who has the mentorship with Peter.” She explained gently. “You need to make a statement. It will help squelch the rumors the media is spewing.”

“Pep…” Tony began, mouth dry and highly aware of the anguish on his face. “You know I can’t deal with the press right now. You know how hard it’s gonna be. They won’t—they’ll ask invasive questions like they always do.”

Pepper entwined one of her hands in his, looking for all the world that she wished she could take this away from him. “Tony, I understand this is going to be hard. Really hard. But you need to do it. The media is saying crazy things. They are blowing this up, saying Peter is your illegitimate son, saying you’re—you’re his sugar daddy. And—and some of it is even worse than that.” Pepper gulped. “You intimidate the media far better than any other person I know. You know how to put them in their place.”

Tony put his head in his hands, trying to calm down and take deep breaths. Peter was—both Peter _and_ May were in this situation because of him. Because he was stupid enough to mentor a regular kid from Queens that just so happened to have freaky superpowers.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Pepper asked after a moment. One where he’d been silent for too long.

“This is all my fault.” Tony mumbled, hyper-aware that he was on the verge of panic. 

Pepper sighed. “Don’t do this, Tony. You know that’s not true!”

“Yes, it is!” Tony snapped, suddenly jumping to his feet and beginning to pace the kitchen. “Pep…if he didn’t know me…if we had never met…this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Of course it wouldn’t have!” Pepper exclaimed. “But think of all the other things, all the great things, the wonderful things that wouldn’t have happened either! We aren’t playing the blame game. We aren’t going to do that today. It’s destructive and you know it!”

“But May…she must hate me for dragging her kid into this.” Tony gestured vaguely. “I thought I could keep Peter away from the media attention, I thought he could join all this without all _that_. I was stupid and naïve.”

“Stop, Tony. Just stop.” Pepper pleaded. “This line of thinking is destructive and I’m not going to allow you to divulge in it any further. You need a distraction.”

“A distraction?” Tony scoffed. “No, I need to help Peter!”

“Of course you do, honey. But I don’t want you thinking about the media right now. Is there something else you can do?”

“I…” Tony began, thinking. “I need to call the police. Talk to them about the video…I should’ve—I should’ve called them yesterday. God, I’m so stupid.”

“Go call them.” Pepper said. “It will get your mind off this. And don’t call yourself stupid.”

Tony nodded in agreement and began to make his way toward the elevator. If he called the cops in his lab, he could lock himself in. He could lock himself in and then nobody would have to see him totally and completely break down. 

\--

_They killed him. They killed his uncle Ben._

_Shot him dead._

_The blood was on the carpet. On his hands. On May’s favorite blouse. The one Ben gave her for Mother’s Day._

_The police were on their way. May called them just a moment ago._

_An innocent soul had been taken, torn from the earth so violently and without care. The empty shell of a former human being was still on their living room floor, unmoving and silent._

_Peter couldn’t digest it. He couldn’t understand any of it. He didn’t understand why._

_And then time shifted. One second he was staring down at Ben’s body and the next he was jolted by the sound of a pounding fist on the front door._

_May hurried to open it, knowing the police should be arriving at any moment. Probably, Peter thought, wanting them to clean up. To move the body away and off the living room carpet._

_But instead of the police, opening the door revealed a big, burly man with a bald head and all dressed up in a spotless white suit, complete with a studded walking cane._

_“Uh…can I help you?” May asked, confused and voice still wobbly and unsure. Trying to look brave. Trying to look put together._

_The man stepped up to the threshold, causing his aunt to involuntarily step back until she came up against the wall._

_“Excuse me, Sir. But I think you’ve got the wrong unit.” May said. “Maybe you meant to knock on another door on this floor?”_

_The man leveled his gaze at May, and after a moment, his eyes darted over to Peter, standing in the shadows. “You’re May Parker?” The man asked. “And that’s your nephew?”_

_May looked absolutely astounded. “Ye—yes.”_

_The intimidating man nodded. “I don’t have the wrong apartment, then.”_

_“What do you—we are in the middle of something here.” Peter added, finally speaking up after taking far too long to find his voice._

_The man walked further into the apartment, seeming to inspect their living space with critical eyes. But then as he stepped foot into the living room and saw Ben’s body, he did something that caused both Peter and May to audibly gasp._

_He chuckled._

_He smiled._

_And then he said. “Good. It looks like it went forward without a hitch.”_

_“What went forward?” May asked, voice suddenly sharp and powerful in the way Peter knew she meant business. “Where are the police?”_

_“Now, now, Mrs. Parker. Please calm down. Take a seat.”_

_“No! Tell us what is going on!” She exclaimed, tears leaking from her eyes, seeming to well up without any effort._

_The man sighed in a way that made it seem as if he was dealing with a petulant child. “I am the Kingpin.” He said. “I control the police. I am the police. And your husband figured this out. He wanted a mutiny. He wanted the force to turn on me because he figured out who I am. I got wind of it, of course. And I knew I had to teach the whole police department a lesson. I knew they needed to be aware that they work for me, that they do my bidding and nothing else.”_

_Peter stumbled back, head spinning and reeling. He didn’t know how to comprehend any of this. None of it made sense when he could still smell the sharp, coppery sent of his uncle’s blood splayed across the room and the floor and his hands._

_“This,” he continued, gesturing to Ben’s body splayed on the ground, “is what I did. It’s the lesson I needed to teach. Nobody crosses me. Nobody crosses the Kingpin of Crime.”_

_“Are—are you going to kill us?” May stuttered, eyes filled with unbridled terror._

_The Kingpin chuckled. “No. No, I’m not going to kill either of you. I have other plans. Plans to make both of you suffer for the rest of your lives. I need to make my point. Get my message across.”_

_May was panicking openly now. He could hear her breath pick up speed._

_“I’ll take this one.” The Kingpin said, forcefully grabbing Peter with one of his massive hands. “He will be a very useful servant to my criminal empire. We simply need to train him.”_

_A shiver went down Peter’s spine. Did he know about him? Did the Kingpin know about his powers?_

_“No! Peter!” May cried, reaching out for him as the Kingpin began to drag him toward the front door._

_“May!” Peter yelled, trying to wrangle out of the man’s grasp, but failing. The Kingpin’s brute strength was hard to fight, even with his powers. “May! No, please! Let me go!”_

_“Peter! Don’t take him! Don’t take my boy! He’s all I have left!”_

_May shot forward, trying to pry Peter from the Kingpin’s tight grip on his arm. But then she was struck across the face by the man, immediately falling to the ground. Unconscious._

_“Aunt May!” Peter screamed, feeling like his throat was going to rip in two._

_And then as he was hauled out of the apartment and into the hall, everything went black._

\--

The call with the police was brief. It wasn’t the big, bureaucratic event Tony was expecting. They simply told him to pay the money and do what the kidnappers asked. It would be the best way for Peter to stay alive. Apparently, the police always encouraged people to pay up in hostage situations if they had the funds. It made for cleaner investigations and quicker rescues.

They told him to pay, to do what they asked, and only gave him one warning. A warning that the kidnappers might ask for more money, that they might not free Peter until he paid up four million dollars and then some. The officer he spoke with, a man named officer Davis, was uncharacteristically patient and kind with him, apparently the man had a son of his own who was just a few years younger than Peter, giving him a kind of understanding the other officers didn’t have. He told Tony to negotiate with the kidnappers until they settled on something they could both work with.

Tony wasn’t looking forward to it in the slightest. 

He wasn’t completely convinced about the whole thing either, but he would do anything to get Peter home as soon as possible, so he wasn’t complaining.

But what he was complaining about was having to send a copy of the video to police for evidence purposes. He wanted to forget about that whole ordeal. He wanted it to be wiped from his memory and he never wanted to speak of it again. But he would do it, he would bear it for Peter. Because he had to get the kid home.

Tony sighed, leaning back in his chair and raking his eyes all over the room. He felt trapped. He wanted to go out and look for the kid. He wanted to search every nook and cranny of the city until he found the den they were hiding him in. 

After a moment of thought, he laid his eyes on the burner phone, peeking out from underneath a pile of papers on the corner of his desk. He couldn’t handle the weight of it in his pocket. He couldn’t stand to have it with him twenty-four-seven. Because even though he needed to be ready if they called, even though he wanted to be alerted the second they did, if he kept it on his person, the urge to call them was too great.

And if he did that…if he did that it would be the greatest mistake he could ever make. It would haunt him forever. And he wouldn’t be able to live with that kind of regret.

He picked up the phone, turning it over in his hands. It was a small, black flip phone, and in a way, Tony was surprised those outdated devices were still being made. Stark Industries definitely wasn’t doing it.

He wished he could call the number. He wished it more than anything. The amount of self-control he was exhibiting at the moment was something he didn’t even know he had inside him before this. He never thought it was possible to hold back this much, to have this much restraint. Because restraint was a foreign concept to Tony Stark.

But he would do anything to keep Peter safe. Anything.

Even if it was constant torture for him.

His hands shook as he continued to hold the phone. He wanted to get rid of it, smash it into bits and then set it on fire and never speak of it again. It was like salt on a wound, poured on by Peter’s captors just to illicit an emotional response out of him.

But if he broke it…if he destroyed it there would be no calls from those disgusting men, and then Peter would be lost to him forever.

Tony angrily shoved the device back under the papers on his desk, wanting it out of sight. After all, he had the ringer up as loud as it would go. He would know the second they called. And if he somehow didn’t hear it, he even had FRIDAY programed to tell him the second they called. 

But he was ready to pay the men. He was ready to give them his entire bank account if they wanted him to. But he had to wait for them to call him first, because if he didn’t wait, Peter would be…

Tony put his head in his hands. He needed to stop thinking about this. He needed to stop going round and round in circles because he was working himself into a panic. He needed a distraction.

And moments later, his silent plea for a distraction, for some sort of release, was answered.

“Tony?” A familiar voice asked. “Sorry to interrupt…”

Tony looked up as May made her way toward him. She looked utterly exhausted. “No, it’s alright, May. I’m finished.”

May nodded. “Okay. Can we talk for a little while?” 

“Sure.” Tony said, wondering half-heartedly how she entered the lab when he had locked himself in.

May led him over to the couch in the corner of his lab, all the while looking at him as if he was about to crack.

He probably was.

And when they sat down, she took his hands in hers in the comforting way she always did. A sad and broken smile on her lips, never reaching her eyes. “Tony.” She began, taking a deep breath. “I know you are blaming yourself for all of this.”

A sharp sting of annoyance shot through Tony. “Did Pep put you up to this?” He asked, knowing he sounded angry.

“We…we talked, yes. But this was my idea.”

“What? Confrontation?” Tony scoffed.

“Yes, Stark.” May said, annoyance seeping into her tone. “Every time Peter gets hurt, you always throw a pity party and I’m sick of it.”

“Sick of it?!” Tony exclaimed. “Well I’m sick of Peter getting hurt _because of me_!”

“But it’s not because of you and we both know that! Stop blaming yourself for things you have no control over!”

Tony laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I did have control over this, May! I had every ounce of control! If Peter had never met me, none of this would have happened!”

May deflated, looking disappointed and exhausted. “No, it wouldn’t have happened. You are right. But if he hadn’t met you, he would probably be dead right now, Tony. I need you to understand that.”

“You can’t say that, May! You can’t—”

“Because…because after Ben died my mind was preoccupied.” May continued, interrupting and plowing along. “I wasn’t paying much attention to him, but I knew something was wrong. He was sneaking out all the time and coming home with bruises and cuts. I thought he joined a gang. I was so worried about him, but my emotional capacity to deal with _anything_ at the time wasn’t great…I could barely get myself out of bed in the morning. We were both so broken and…and we didn’t know how to help each other. But then you came along, and Pete began to light up again. He always talked about how great the ‘internship’ was and he seemed more like himself.”

May paused, taking a massive, stress-filled breath before continuing again. “And if you didn’t give him that suit, teach him the tricks of the trade and watch out for him, I have no doubt that he would have been stabbed to death in an alley somewhere.”

Tony sat frozen. Stunned and speechless. This was all new information to him. He had no idea what to think about all of it, let alone know what to feel. 

“He was taking on the whole world alone, Tony.” May whispered, eyes filled with unshed tears. “He needed you then, and he definitely needs you now. So please stop blaming yourself. _Please_. You’ve done so much for Peter. You’ve helped him more than you realize, and I could never thank you enough, even now when I can’t sleep and I can’t eat. Even when I’m worried sick for my boy.” 

“I’ll try. I’ll really try.” Tony nodded minutely, his voice wobbling.

“I guess that’s all I can ask for.” May said. “You are too self-deprecating for your own good, Tony Stark.” 

And if that wasn’t the truth, Tony didn’t know what was. 

\--

_He was swinging through the city, Mr. Stark by his side. The wind whipping past him as the sound of his mentor’s repulsors filled his ears._

_It was always a treat to patrol the city with Mr. Stark. Having back up was a nice change of pace, and Mr. Stark was always fun to chat with._

_It was a blast._

_Joy._

_Pure joy._

_“Spider-Man, on your left!” His mentor called, voice suddenly frantic and clipped._

_It was so sudden, so out of nowhere that Peter didn’t have a chance to react. Just as he turned his head to look at Mr. Stark, he was swatted out of the sky by a blur of green that was hopefully not what he thought it was._

_He crashed into a building, his right shoulder taking the brunt of the impact, some of the brick crumbling in the face of the sudden force._

_He was falling and falling fast. And as he tried to regain his bearings and find some sort of grip on reality, he heard the cackling laugh of none other than Mac Gargan._

_Ugh. Just who he thought it was._

_“How’d you get out of prison, buddy?” Peter scoffed, finally regaining his composure and sticking to the brick wall of the offending building. “I thought I had you locked up for good.”_

_“When there’s a will, there’s a way.” The Scorpion hissed, anger and pure vitriol marring his features. “And now you will pay for what you did to me and all the guys like me that are locked up for doing the right thing!”_

_“The right thi—” Peter began._

_But he never got to finish. He never got to put the Scorpion in his place, because the next thing he knew, he was being stung with the man’s freaky stinger, causing his body to lock up and fall the rest of the way to the ground. Paralyzed by the venom and reeling from the fall._

_“You get what you deserve, Spider-Man. You get what you deserve.”_

_Mr. Stark was calling his name, screaming his name, from somewhere far away, somewhere up above him. But he couldn’t do anything about it. Because he couldn’t move a single muscle._

_And then the worst thing imaginable happened as Mr. Stark came towards him, running. Trying to save his sorry ass._

_Gargan pinned his mentor to the side of the wall with his super strength. The wall Peter had fallen from moments before. It knocked the wind out of him, Peter could tell. Because he wasn’t calling his name anymore, because the panicked breaths of fear and concern were gone._

_Instead they were replaced with eyes full of terror. Eyes Peter saw the moment the Scorpion viciously ripped Mr. Stark’s face plate off, exposing the vulnerable man underneath._

_He couldn’t even beg Gargan to stop, his vocal cords just as paralyzed as the rest of him._

_“I’ve been waiting for this moment, Spider-Man. Or…should I say…Peter Parker!” Gargan said, a devilish and slimy grin full of sadistic joy taking up his features._

_Peter felt his pulse increase rapidly. How did he know that? Who told him? Who ratted him out?_

_“I’ve been waiting for you to watch helplessly as the light leaves his eyes. Years and years of waiting. And now it’s time.”_

_And then the Scorpion yanked, using his strength to rip Mr. Stark’s arms straight from his body. Both of them at the same time. A disgusting squelching and tearing sound that Peter knew he would never be able to forget._

_The man dropped his mentor to the ground after that, blood pooling rapidly in two separate puddles on the pavement. No one coming to help. Not a single soul._

_He heard his mentor’s gasps, his pleas with FRIDAY to get help, the tinny voice of his Irish AI saying there was no time, saying that he would bleed out before help could arrive. He heard the fearful moans of Mr. Stark, heard the man’s sluggish and slowing heartbeat._

_It was a heartbeat that Peter had to hear slow to a stop. A complete stop. Until there were no more beats left. No more for minutes, hours and days after that. No more forever._

_Because it felt like forever, lying there, unable to move or look away._

_It felt like his own life was ending._

_Tears leaked unbidden from Peter’s eyes, running down his cheeks. This was a nightmare. He was supposed to be capable; he was supposed to learn from Mr. Stark, he was supposed to be able to save him from danger. But he couldn’t do any of that. And he had to watch the gruesome sight in front of him. He couldn’t even close his eyes._

_He was a failure. An utter and complete failure._

_There was no going back. Because he wasn’t a superhero, not if he couldn’t even save the man who invested so much of his life into helping him. Not when he couldn’t do better._

_An unwanted and horrid thought came to his mind at that. One he wished he never thought. But one he knew was the full and complete truth. One that would play on repeat for the rest of his days._

_Maybe if you were good enough, he would still be alive._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! A lot happened in this chapter. Hopefully it’s easy enough to digest and not too much all at once!  
> \--  
> The pinkish gas that causes Peter hallucinations in this chapter comes straight from the comics. Movie Mysterio has some differences to his tech and powers that are not in the comics. I decided to go this route since I don't like EDITH all that much and I don't think Tony would give a teenager glasses that control killer drones...just sayin'. I love Far From Home, but damn that movie has a lot of problems. This version of Mysterio's hallucination gas is inspired by the Spider-Men comics where Peter Parker teams up with Miles Morales!   
> \--  
> I have to admit I don't know much about hostage situations and ransoms. I did some research though and I found that as long as the ransom isn't for/from a government, the decisions made by the police and families vary greatly on a case-by-case basis…so I took liberty to do it this way because it serves the story I am trying to tell…hopefully it is believable enough. :/ I tried. :/  
> \--  
> Please leave a comment and tell me what you thought! I would love to hear from you! And thank you for reading! :) <3


	6. Ephemeral Abductions V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I’m back with another chapter! :) I also wanted to let all of you know we are very, very close to the climax of Act One! The next chapter is going to have some very important and exciting things happen, so hang in there! 
> 
> For those of you who are comic and/or Spidey PS4 fans, there are some easter eggs in this chapter, so be on the lookout! And for those of you who don’t know much about Spidey outside the MCU, the easter eggs will be pointed out and explained in the end notes. 
> 
> I had so much fun writing this chapter, and I hope you will all enjoy it. Let’s go! ;)

Harrison figured this was the most nerve-wracking limo ride he had ever experienced. It felt like a funeral procession for some kind of politician or head of state. It felt like he was being led to his own demise. Like a pig meant for slaughter.

It wasn’t a completely wrong assumption. After all, he was on his way to Fisk Tower to meet with the big man himself. Because he had completely fucked up. Because everything was all screwed up and complicated now. But it wasn’t his fault! It was Alvin’s fault. Completely and one hundred percent.

But he would take the fall. He would take all the blame. He had to, because Wilson was pinning the blame on him, and he couldn’t get away from that. He just had to hope he would come out the other side.

Wilson had called him in a tirade a few hours ago, demanding that he come to the tower to discuss matters face-to-face. The phone call had been laced with threats and expletives in a way that was unusual for Wilson. It was how Harrison knew this wouldn’t be good.

In fact, it was highly likely that it would be very, _very_ bad.

And as Harrison stared out the window of the private limo Wilson had sent for him as it pulled into the parking garage, he couldn’t help but marvel at the opulence of Fisk Tower. Because despite his working relationship with the man, there weren’t many occasions where he’d been invited to headquarters. Wilson liked to keep his people in the shadows as much as possible, which meant he was not to go to the tower unless invited by the man himself.

Which also meant that this invitation was a serious matter. After all, he hadn’t kidnapped the Parker kid because Kingpin asked him to do it, he did it to get the money Wilson asked him to acquire. 

Harrison let out a deep sigh. He was in the mess in the first place because Rose wanted that villa in the Hamptons all to herself. She said she would divorce him if she didn’t get it. And Harrison really didn’t want that to happen, not with Eugene still at home at least. Because he knew what divorce was like for children. He knew it messed them up inside because it had done that to him. Because his parents divorced when he was around Eugene’s age and he never got over it. It cut him inside to this very day.

So if it meant embezzling money from the company he kept tabs on for Kingpin in order to buy his estranged wife her own personal villa, then he would do anything. Anything to keep Eugene from the pain he felt as a teenager. Even if it meant kidnapping that Parker kid and forfeiting his life to the Kingpin of Crime.

Rose was a horrible, selfish woman. He had figured that out years ago. She had only married him for his money and his connections. She never cared about him, and she definitely didn’t care about Eugene. It was probably a good thing she disappeared to that villa for weeks at a time, because he couldn’t stand to be around someone so vapid and vain.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, Harrison pushed thoughts of his shortcomings and bad parenting down. It wasn’t like he was a saint himself, but at least he was better than Rose.

It was his only sense of consolidation.

“Welcome, Mr. Thompson.” Anita, Wilson’s secretary, said as Harrison exited the elevator at the top floor of the tower, Wilson’s personal floor.

Harrison nodded at the woman, putting on a fake smile that he didn’t feel at all. Because in reality, he was shaking in his boots. He was terrified beyond belief. He’d heard the gossip, the stories. The ones about Wilson throwing people out his office window to die on the street below when they crossed him. When they made him upset.

He hoped and prayed that wouldn’t be him today. He hoped he could ride the elevator down to the ground floor and go back home. But he also knew there was no running away from the Kingpin. He knew the man would hunt him down, find him no matter what, even if he ran to some far corner of the globe that was hard to access.

So he just had to face the music. He just had to dance along. 

“Mr. Fisk is ready and waiting for you. Go right on in.” Anita said, gesturing elegantly to the expensive mahogany door of Wilson’s office.

“Thank you.” Harrison gulped.

And the next thing he knew, he was pushing open the door to find Wilson sitting at his desk, staring him down in that intimidating way only Wilson could. Harrison’s eyes flitted to Wilson’s large, meaty hands. He had the displeasure of being struck by those things once before, and ever since then, whenever he was in the presence of his boss, he made sure he always knew their location.

One of Wilson’s hands was messing with the tie pin on his collar, seeming to mock Harrison with its tricks. The tricks Harrison knew Wilson didn’t actually need, not when brute strength was involved at least. His other hand was resting on the mahogany cane he always carried with him, the one made out of the same wood as the door and studded with a lot of very expensive rubies at the top. That too, possessed a power Harrison didn’t understand, but he knew a threat when he saw one. 

After all, the gadgets were meant for nothing more than intimidation. Wilson had other people do his dirty work.

People like him.

“Harrison.” Wilson said, voice short and clipped. “Sit.”

And as Harrison lowered himself into one of the velvet-padded chairs in front of Wilson’s desk, his fear went up a notch. This was it, he was going to die.

“I don’t think I need to tell you why you’ve been summoned.” Wilson began, standing from his desk and pacing the room. “The men you hired were sloppy and sadistic. The press is onto us, and the case has garnered national and international attention. Not to mention—”

Wilson paused, coming to stand right in front of Harrison, crouching down and getting right in his face. “Not to mention none of this was supposed to happen in the first place.” He snarled, jamming one of his meaty fingers into Harrison’s chest. “Don’t think I don’t know about you embezzling money from Roxxon. I’m not an idiot, Harrison. I have eyes and ears everywhere.”

And then his boss suddenly deflated, looking as close to disappointed as he could get. “If you needed money for something, you should have simply come to me upfront. I have plenty of it, and above all, I consider you a friend.” A deep sigh emitted from the man, as he stood up straight and went back behind his desk. “But I cannot even allow my friends to cross me. There will be consequences for this.”

It was at that moment that Harrison finally found his voice, deciding to be brave. “But—but—you don’t even own Roxxon. I thought I was your only link there. I thought I was there to get us an in.”

“Harrison, you fool!” Wilson all but yelled. “I shouldn’t have to tell you twice. I. Own. Everything. This city is mine. I control it. Not the city council, not mayor Osborn. Me. It’s all me.”

“Not Stark Industries.” Harrison bit back. “You don’t control Stark’s little empire.”

Wilson growled. “No. Not yet. But someday, someday I’ll be able to wipe that paranoid ass-wipe known as Tony Stark off the face of this earth, and then his company will be mine too. But don’t think we don’t have people working there, Harrison. Like I said, I have eyes and ears everywhere.”

The room went silent after that. It was a tense and pulsing silence. And Harrison didn’t know how to fill it.

But Wilson did. He had more to say. A lot more. “Regardless, Harrison, you need to know you are on thin ice. Very, _very_ thin ice. If it had been anyone else, anyone I don’t consider a friend and confidant, you would already be dead. In fact, I would have killed you a while ago for all the mistakes you’ve made.”

Harrison nodded, looking down into his lap, careful to hide his immense relief. It didn’t look like he was going to get thrown out the window after all. That was good.

“Do you know much about history, Harrison?” Wilson suddenly asked.

Harrison looked up, confusion etched in his features. “I’m afraid I’m more of a science guy.”

Wilson nodded. “Isoroku Yamamoto. Heard of him?”

“No, sir.”

“He was an admiral in the Japanese Navy during World War Two. He thought the decision to attack Pearl Harbor was a mistake. A mistake that would have massive consequences. And you know what his exact words were—translated of course—when he found out about the attack?”

Harrison shook his head.

“I fear all we have done is to awaken a sleeping giant and fill him with a terrible resolve.” Wilson whispered, examining his exquisite mahogany cane, turning it over in his hands. “That’s what Yamamoto said.”

“I—I’m afraid I don’t understand sir.” Harrison stammered.

“You _are_ as dense as a stump of wood. No matter.” Wilson sighed, standing from his desk, turning around and staring out the window at the streets below. Harrison watched his hands as he clenched them behind his back, always making sure he knew where they were.

“I’m afraid, Harrison, you’ve awakened a sleeping giant.” Wilson continued, meeting Harrison’s eyes in the reflection of the glass “Tony Stark will do anything and everything to protect those he loves. And with your carelessness, it is inevitable that my criminal empire will be brought to its knees. This is your last opportunity, your last chance to get this right. He is on our radar now.”

\--

Thirsty.

That was Peter’s first thought. A permeating and overpowering thirst that he couldn’t stop thinking about. The gag was still in his mouth, still obstructing him and intruding on him in a terrible way, but his tongue felt like sandpaper around the now dry piece of fabric in his mouth.

The world was spinning. And Peter realized he hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since he’d been taken.

He didn’t even know how long it had been. He’d lost track of time ages ago.

Everything felt surreal and foggy at the same time. Peter wasn’t even sure what was real anymore. Everything hurt and throbbed and pulsed with the slow beat of his heart. He didn’t know which way was up, and he didn’t know which way was down. There were so many things running through his head all at once, and he couldn’t make sense of any of them.

He knew he’d been taken, that was for sure. But he couldn’t be sure of validity of his memories. The hallucination drugs his kidnappers had somehow got their hands on were messing with his mind. Reality was mixing effortlessly with the fabrications of his mind, causing him moments of sudden and violent fear that etched themselves in the bowels of his mind.

And at that moment, a sudden image came to his mind, causing him to physically recoil, causing him to tremor in anticipation.

It was May, stabbed through with the point of one of Vulture’s wings.

He could smell her blood. The coppery scent filled his nostrils.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, Peter knew it was one of the hallucinations that kept going around and around in his brain, one that somehow got stuck on repeat, but he couldn’t shake the smell, he couldn’t shake the look of terror on May’s face.

He knew, logically, that he was still tied up. Still stuck in that damp and drafty warehouse. He still had a broken cheekbone and injuries galore, and he was still thirsty beyond belief. But he could smell his aunt’s blood too. And the fear in her eyes would forever be engrained in his memory.

Forever.

And then Peter had a horrible, unexpected thought. Because regardless if May was really—regardless if _that_ had happened or not, this was _his_ reality. His new and never-changing reality. Because he was stuck. He couldn’t escape, and nobody knew where he was. No one that cared at least.

He was going to die.

He was going to die _in here._

His stomach responded to that realization at the same time his brain did, recoiling and lurching with sudden vigor. He was gagging and retching and doubling over as best he could. He didn’t even understand how there was anything left in his stomach to throw up.

The sick wetted his dry mouth and the gag stuffed in it, but it couldn’t come out. It couldn’t be completely expelled from his body, not while the tape was still firmly stuck to his face. The taste of acidic vomit was absolutely disgusting, causing him to gag and cough more, a perpetual cycle of the torture his own body was putting him through. 

His cheek throbbed and pulsed with pain in a now very familiar way, causing him to moan lowly. He was shaking, tremors wracking his body. There was something seriously wrong with him, something that, if he didn’t get help for soon, would spell nothing but trouble, bring nothing good.

It took Peter a little too long to understand he was panicking. He was having some sort of panic attack or…something. His chest was heaving, and he couldn’t get enough air to fill his lungs.

The vomit eventually found a way out through his nose, burning his sinuses and lighting his face in an acidic fire.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe.

He was going to die, and visions of those he cared about dying and dead would be the last thing he saw, never knowing if they were real, never knowing if they were fake.

Never knowing if the life left May’s eyes like that. Never knowing if Mr. Stark died because of him.

Never knowing.

\--

_Boing._

“Yeah, man its crazy! The whole school is talking about it. I’m kinda thankful to Parker, ya know? All the teachers were distracted. We didn’t get anything done. I was so fuckin’ worried about failing the chem test, but we didn’t even take it!”

_Boing._

“Lucky. I was the only person at Stuy who seemed to care. Everything was business as usual.” 

_Boing._

“Yeah, well, you’re the only person at Stuyvesant who knows Parker, so…”

Flash didn’t even know why he was trying to entertain himself with a bouncy ball. He should be having fun. He should be laughing and joking with Kong and Harry instead of sitting around listening to the two of them passionately discussing Penis Parker’s kidnapping.

Why did they even care in the first place? Sure, Harry knew Parker, but they hadn’t been friends since elementary school. And while Kong was more amicable to Parker than he was, they had never been friends. Not even close.

Ugh. He couldn’t believe it! Everyone was obsessed with Parker’s kidnapping, even his own friends! He’d hoped that by hanging out with his friends after school, he would be able to escape it, escape the Parker-worshiping hell that was school, but nope. His friends were just as enamored with the situation as everyone else.

Flash could, in theory, try to examine his feelings. Try to understand why he was so averse to everyone being interested in Penis Parker all of a sudden, but he didn’t want to dive into the jealously that was simmering just below the surface of his teasing and jabs.

He didn’t want to admit he was worried about Parker too.

“Can we quit talking about Parker for like, five minutes?” He finally whined, looking at the confused expressions of his friends.

“I’m worried about him, man.” Harry said after a tense moment, looking completely aghast.

“Yeah. Worried. Seems like everyone is.” Flash grumbled.

“Look, just because you’re jealous of him, doesn’t mean the rest of us are.” Harry said. “Peter and I used to be friends.”

“Yeah. _Used to._ Those are the key words.”

“Dude. Stop being an asshole. You’re crossing so many lines right now.” Kong said.

Ugh. Kong. Always the mediator. Always trying to smooth things out and fix problems. Why was he friends with a guy like that anyway? Was it just for his muscle? And if it was, would Flash even be willing to admit it?

Probably not.

“Just stop, okay!” Flash yelled, getting to his feet and pacing the room, bouncy ball forgotten. “The whole school, everyone on social media, even the fucking news! They are all obsessed with Parker all of a sudden and I can’t stand it! I know you didn’t have to deal with it all day, Harry, going to that fancy private school and all, but me and Kong did! We had to spend all day at Midtown listening to everyone whine about how sorry they felt for Parker and I’m fucking sick of it! I invited you guys over here to distract myself from this shit, but all you do is go on and on about how you feel bad for Parker. I’m tired of it!”

When Flash took a moment to pause mid-tirade to take a breath, he was surprised by the looks on Kong and Harry’s faces. They both looked to be a mixture of upset and aghast, causing Flash to pause and stutter, unable to get his next sentence out.

“Look, Flash.” Harry began. “I know your jealousy of Peter comes from your daddy issues. I’m not an idiot, okay? We’ve all noticed it. But you gotta stop taking things out on him, especially after this. And—and all three of us have problems with our dads. You aren’t the only one here who has a shitty, invisible father. It’s not Peter’s fault.”

Flash clenched his jaw. “I know that, Harry. Of course it’s not his fault! But I just—” He paused, letting out a deep sigh. “Everyone thinks I’m gonna be this great businessman one day. Everyone thinks I’m gonna be just like my dad. Live up to him and all that. But they don’t get it! They don’t see how _absent_ he is. They don’t see him when he gets angry. And they don’t see the way my mom—”

No. He was _not_ going to talk about that. No one knew about his mom. He wouldn’t let them know. Because she was even worse.

“I get it, man.” Harry said after a moment, awkwardly putting a hand on Flash’s shoulder. Trying to be comforting. “Everyone wants me to be just like my dad. Everyone comments that I’ll be the next mayor, the future of the city and all that. Some people even think I’m gonna take over Oscorp. And I hate it. I really do. Because they don’t see what I see. They aren’t in our home. But I’m not gonna take out my frustrations on Peter okay? You gotta learn to be better than that.”

“At least you two have fathers.” Kong grumbled. “I don’t talk about it, but I understand Parker in that way, ya know? I’ve always wanted a dad, but instead I got some alcoholic loser who disappeared when I was two.”

“But that’s just what bothers me, Kong!” Flash butted in. “Parker would be in your situation if it wasn’t for Tony fucking Stark! I just don’t get it! How was he lucky enough to get on Stark’s radar? It’s not fair!” 

“Dude.” Kong said, an emotion on his face Flash didn’t even want to take the time to define.

Harry shook his head. “Calm down, Flash. We don’t even know how close he is to Stark.”

“Yes, we do!” Flash exploded. “What billionaire would go to bat for some random kid intern the way Stark is doing right now? What kind of guy would do that for someone they weren’t close to? Not to mention its super likely that Parker was kidnapped because he knows Stark. I mean, come on, Harry. Use your fucking brain!”

“I’m leaving.” Kong said out of the blue, standing from his seat and moving toward the door. “I didn’t come here to argue or listen to you rant about your daddy issues, Flash. I came to have a good time. Maybe play some video games. But clearly, you are way too wound up to do any of that.”

“I should probably get going too.” Harry said. “My father will be expecting me for dinner.”

The unexpected turn of events felt like whiplash to Flash. Kong and Harry wanted to leave now? Seriously? Was he really that insufferable? But the moment Flash thought that question, he knew he didn’t want an answer to it. He knew he couldn’t examine his own faults and issues. Because if he did, he was terrified of what he would find.

So he watched them leave. Too afraid and too cowardly to apologize and ask them to come back. Too worried about his own pride.

Pride. Maybe that was his problem.

He shook his head. He couldn’t think about it.

He didn’t want to find out. 

\--

It was Thursday evening, and Alvin still hadn’t called the burner phone.

It was Thursday evening, and Peter was still out there in an unknown condition. Probably being tortured.

Just like Tony was. Well, not just like him. Because if his experiences in Afghanistan were anything to go off of, it had to be so much worse than the inkling of torture Tony felt at not being able to pick up the phone and call the number. A number that somehow ingrained itself in his brain despite only hearing it once. Despite never writing it down.

He didn’t know how much longer he could take any of this. 

He couldn’t do the press conference Pepper had scheduled earlier, that was certain. In the groggy mist of his morning brain, he hadn’t been able to think through her declaration. But now that he thought about it, he was worried for the repercussions. Peter’s kidnappers never _explicitly_ said he couldn’t do a press conference, but it felt implied. He wasn’t even allowed to leave the compound for God’s sake!

But that brought him to his next dilemma. If he couldn’t leave, if he couldn’t contact Alvin on the burner phone, how was he supposed to know if he was allowed to hold the press conference or not? How was he supposed to know if Peter would receive unwarranted torture or—or even worse—if he couldn’t make contact with anyone?

He would just have to play it safe. That was the only option. And if that meant an explosion of frustration and annoyance on Pepper’s part, so be it.

Leaving the seclusion of his lab to go back to the penthouse to confront his fiancée would usually be something to make his stomach churn in nervousness, because Pepper was a fiery ball of passion and determination. That’s why he loved her after all.

But today, after everything that had gone down in the past few days, something so simple had no power to faze him. After seeing the kid—after seeing Peter _like that_ , an argument with Pepper seemed like a walk in the park. And he would do it every day if that meant getting Peter home, safe and sound.

Pepper, Happy and May were sitting together in the living room when he arrived, all three of them looking at him questioningly when he arrived in his regular stained lab shirt and faded jeans.

“Honey, why aren’t you ready for the press conference?” Pepper questioned. “It starts in fifteen minutes!”

“We can’t do it, Pep.”

Pepper sputtered, looking aghast. “Wha—what? Why? What do you mean?”

“We can’t do the press conference. We just can’t.”

“Tony.” Happy butted in, tone slightly accusatory.

“No! I refuse! We. Can’t. Do. This.” Tony said, clenching his teeth and trying to hold in his anger. “After we get Peter back—then we can do one. But right now…I don’t know what they will do to him if we hold a press conference.”

He was beginning to result to his all-familiar panic attack mode, pacing around the living room and clenching his shaking hands into fists. He had to get the message across. He had to find a way to get Pepper to understand. “Pep…I told you about the call—the video.” He said with pleading eyes. “We can’t do this. You have to call it off. You _have to_.” And then after a massive sigh, Tony begged. “ _Please_.”

Pepper looked like she was having some sort of brain malfunction. The look on her face was indescribable. “Why couldn’t you have told me about this earlier, Tony? Like this morning, in the kitchen when we were talking.”

“I—I am so stressed right now. You know that. I wasn’t—I couldn’t think straight. I still can’t think straight.” Tony stammered out.

Pepper put her face in her hands. “This is going to be a PR nightmare, Tony. It’s supposed to start in fifteen minutes, or even less than that now! I can guarantee you that there’s already a bunch of press in the conference room downstairs. What am I supposed to tell them, huh? Because _you_ were the one who was supposed to show up!”

“I can’t, Pep. Please try and understand. I don’t know what they’ll do to Peter if I do this. I don’t know if they’ll do anything and that’s the scariest part!”

“I know, honey.” Pepper said, eyes kind. “I know its uncertain right now. And I know you are scared, but it’s probably fine. I saw the video. They didn’t say anything about talking to the press. I think—”

“But it was implied! _Implied!_ I refuse, Pep. I don’t care about how much it tarnishes my image or whatever, all I care about is Peter being safe!”

Pepper let out the longest sigh Tony had ever heard from her, a frustrated and dismal sound. “Fine. I’ll call it off. I understand the risks, and I get what you are worried about, but just so you know, you are making this harder for all of us when we eventually do hold a press conference. Because we will have to at some point. There is no getting out of it with this massive media mess.”

“I—I understand.” Tony said.

“I hope you do, Honey, because this isn’t going to be pretty.” 

“None of this is pretty.” Tony mumbled. “And it never will be. This is the media we are dealing with. They’ll chew me out and spit me up no matter what happens.” And as Tony turned to leave, to go back to his lab and hunker down, he said, “All I care about is getting Peter back. Nothing else matters.”

He didn’t stay in the room long enough to see the reactions on the faces of his family. He wouldn’t be able to bear it. 

\--

Somehow, Harrison had made it out of his last encounter with Wilson completely intact. He’d been able to walk out of the man’s office without a single scratch. It was something he was a little too grateful for.

But here he was again, waiting in the lobby on the top floor of Fisk Tower, because he had another appointment with his boss to discuss matters at hand. They had only met yesterday, and Harrison didn’t understand why Wilson couldn’t have brought up what he needed to tell him then, but he also knew full well that when the Kingpin called, it was imperative for him to come.

It wasn’t long before he was called into the man’s office, walking in much the same way as he had yesterday, going through motions that felt like déjà vu.

“Sorry to call you in again today, Harrison.” Wilson said after he was again seated in one of the velvet-padded chairs. “But you must know that I have some questions. Why Peter Parker?”

The suddenness of the question caused Harrison to be taken aback. Wilson was never this direct. Beating around the bush to soften up his targets was his specialty. It was all so strange.

“He—he goes to school with my son.” Harrison stammered.

Wilson looked at him imploringly, as if he wanted him to continue. 

Gulping forcefully, Harrison said, “and—and he knows Tony Stark. Personally. He has some sort of internship with him. My son is quite jealous. He talks about it all the time.”

“I see…” Wilson said, stroking his bare chin pensively. “It’s interesting you chose him of all people to get a ransom out of. You know, I already have an indirect history with this Parker boy.”

“You do?” Harrison asked.

“I do.” Wilson paused. “He lives with his aunt and uncle, correct?”

“Just his aunt, sir. His uncle died in a shooting at a bodega a couple years ago.”

Wilson nodded. “Hummmm. It _is_ him.”

“Excuse me, sir, but may I ask what this is all about?”

Wilson was silent for a moment, clearly thinking things over. “Harrison, as a friend, I need you to promise to keep this between us. It’s the reason the police department bows to me. It’s one of the major reasons why I control this city so easily, and the death of Parker’s uncle is what keeps the whole operation together. Do you promise to keep the following information to yourself?”

Harrison nodded. “I promise.”

“Good.” Wilson began, stroking his tie pin. “Parker’s uncle was shot at that bodega, but it was no accident. Sure, the papers said it was an accident. Sure, I made it look like an accident, but it wasn’t. Because Ben Parker had to be taken out.”

Wilson moved to stand in front of the window, much in the same way he had yesterday. “You see, he and Officer Davis, you know Jeff Davis, right?”

Harrison nodded. Wilson always made sure he knew who was on the force.

“Well, they were on to me. They figured out that I control the police. That I am the police. Ben Parker figured it out first. He wanted a mutiny. He wanted the force to turn on me because he figured out who I am, he figured out that Wilson Fisk is the Kingpin of Crime. I got wind of it, of course. And I knew I had to teach the whole police department a lesson, especially since Jeff Davis was beginning to get involved in Parker’s little sleuthing operation. I knew they needed to be aware that they work for me, that they do my bidding and nothing else. So I set it up. I had Ben Parker killed at that bodega to look like a random act of violence. And then I threatened Jeff Davis. Told him the same fate would come to him if he didn’t comply. Told him his wife and son would be left in the same state as Parker’s family. It was the only way to get Jeff to comply. The only way. Because he has too much of a conscious, too much of a good heart. Just like Parker did.”

Wilson sighed. “Its been nice and quiet the past couple years because of that. Nice and quiet.”

A silence came over the room as Wilson turned pensive, causing Harrison to think. He wasn’t surprised about any of this. Not really. Wilson always did things like this, always found ways to get what he wanted. But what he didn’t understand was the point of Wilson telling him all of this in the first place, especially when he was already on such thin and cracking ice.

Usually, Wilson kept his larger, more elaborate plots to himself and those directly involved in the operation. Usually, he wasn’t privy to this kind of knowledge. Sure, the Parker kid was involved in this whole kidnapping fiasco, but his uncle wasn’t. Parker’s uncle had been dead for a while now. There would be nothing to change that. 

“You are probably wondering why I’m telling you all this.” Wilson finally said, turning to look Harrison in the eye, seeming to read his mind. “You see, I have to involve people in these kinds of operations from time to time. Backhanded ones where I get what I want without people knowing. I need people to clean up the messes that come with this sort of thing.”

Harrison nodded. He understood. He understood it all very well.

Wilson began to pace the room. “You need to prove your loyalty, Harrison. It’s not often that I give second chances, but you are a friend. And I may not look it, but I’m a bit sentimental. I cannot get rid of you as easily as I dispose of others.”

While he was grateful for the supposed friendship between himself and Wilson, Harrison still had no idea where it came from. What made him a friend to Wilson? Because as far as Harrison was concerned, it wasn’t a mutual friendship. He was more terrified of his boss than anything.

“So I need you to do exactly as I tell you.” Wilson continued. “Because this mess needs to be fixed. And it won’t be an easy or simple fix, not when Tony Stark is on our trail. So you must do exactly what I say. _Exactly._ This job will prove your loyalty. It will solidify our friendship. You must strike at the perfect moment, because every move you make will be crucial, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Good. Because I have people—you are aware of them—I can stick them on you at any moment, any moment that you dare to double-cross me. And the results…well, let’s just say they won’t be pretty.”

Harrison gulped.

“I look forward to our continued friendship, Harrison. The future is bright.” Wilson said, smiling sinisterly. “If you allow it to be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay before y’all yell at me, just know that changing Ben’s death was a really difficult decision for me. It was one of the things I agonized about when writing the outline for this fic. I understand the implications here, and I understand that people HATE when Ben’s death gets messed with (myself included) but just know this changes NOTHING about Peter’s origin. As far as Peter goes, he still thinks Ben’s death is his fault because the whole thing with refusing to stop the criminal earlier still happened. It’s just that the criminal was hired by the Kingpin. That’s the only thing I changed. I totally worried and agonized over this scene for a long time, but I feel like it’s extremely important to the story and at the end of the day, this is just fanfiction, so… *shrugs* I’m sorry if y’all hate this. :/ :/ :/   
> \--  
> The historian in me has to acknowledge the truth behind the sleeping giant quote. The quote Wilson says in this chapter is actually from a movie called Tora! Tora! Tora! that is about the Pearl Harbor attack. There is no evidence that Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto actually said this quote. But even though there is no evidence of these exact words, it is clear that he thought Japan could never win a war with the United States. He also thought the attack on Pearl Harbor was a mistake, despite being the person who came up with the idea in the first place. So, even though this quote isn't "real" I wanted to use it because it is powerful and fits well in the scene. I also think it's something Wilson would say and know about. So yeah... I kind of sacrificed historical accuracy for art. My professors would be upset lolololol.   
> \--  
> The part about Kingpin throwing people out of windows who cross him is a nod to the Ultimate Spider-Man comics, where Kingpin throws Spidey out a window of Fisk Tower after Peter loses a fight with him.   
> \--  
> The reference to the unknown powers that Kingpin’s tie pin and cane have come from the very first arc Kingpin appeared in in the Amazing Spider-Man in the 1960s! Those features of his appearance aren’t used in all comics/media, but I thought they were fun to include.  
> \--  
> Yes, you read that right, Norman Osborn is the mayor of NYC! I plucked this little easter egg straight from the Spidey PS4 video game! I think Norman Osborn being mayor is an extremely fun idea to play around with. He’s not going to be very important to this story in particular, but if I ever write a sequel, the setup is there! ;) ;) ;)   
> \--  
> I needed this scene with Flash and his friends to happen, but as I began to write it, I realized the MCU doesn’t really depict Flash with any friends. At least in my interpretation of the movies, everyone seems annoyed with him in the MCU and thinks he just wants attention. He isn’t really depicted with any “solid” friends. Therefore, I again decided to draw on the Ultimate Spider-Man comics! Kong, AKA Kenny McFarlane is a friend of Flash in those comics, and so is Harry Osborn. They are on the basketball team together before shit goes down with the Green Goblin and Harry moves away. Obviously MCU Flash isn’t tall enough to be on the basketball team and I don’t even think MCU Midtown focuses on that stuff, so I left that aspect out, but having these characters in this scene felt appropriate with what I was trying to do, so *shrugs*.  
> \--  
> Whew! That was a looong author's note! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please leave me a comment and tell me what you thought! I would love to hear from you! <3


	7. Ephemeral Abductions VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the climax of Act 1 everyone! I’ve been so excited to write and share this chapter since I started planning this fic months ago! After this chapter, there will only be 2-3 more chapters in Act 1, and then we will move onto the second act of the story, which will feature much more Flash! 
> 
> Alright, everybody, buckle your seatbelts, take a few deep breaths and prepare yourselves for this chapter. It’s gonna be a doozy! 
> 
> Let’s go! ;)

Friday morning dawned bright and warm, the sun shining through the sheer and translucent curtains of Tony’s bedroom window. He stretched his arms above his head, unready to face the day in front of him. Not ready in the slightest.

He didn’t even want to think about why he wasn’t ready. Because the mere thought of what he was going through made him sick to his stomach. And the mere thought of what _Peter_ was going through made him feel even worse—like the room was spinning around him, like he was disoriented.

He looked over at the other half of his bed, finding a Pepper-shaped indent there. She must have woken up before him, as usual. Pulling the covers off himself and reluctantly getting out of bed, Tony felt a pang of regret. Because Pepper had to be losing her marbles right about now, after he belatedly refused to show up to the press conference.

Tony sighed. He stood by his decision, no doubt about that, but he also felt immense guilt whenever Pepper had to clean up after his shortcomings. Tony Stark, always falling short. Always messing up. And somewhere in the back of his mind, he squashed down the oncoming and inevitable thoughts of Peter’s kidnapping being his fault. He squashed them down because he didn’t have the emotional capacity to deal with them. Not in the slightest.

Leaving the solitude of his bedroom, Tony pattered into the kitchen to make his morning coffee, hoping someone else would be in there to distract him from his morose train of thought.

And as it turned out, both May and Happy were present, sitting together at the table, hand in hand. They both looked strained and tired. Exhausted. And Tony imagined he looked much the same.

“Morning.” He greeted when they made eye contact.

“Good morning, Tony.” Happy responded, looking nowhere close to having a _good_ morning.

“Do either of you want coffee?”

“I’m good, thanks.” Happy shook his head. “May, honey, would you like any?”

“I’m fine.” She whispered, voice low and gravelly in a way Tony had never heard before.

It was then that Tony decided to look at May more closely, examine her face and look into her eyes. It wasn’t something he wanted to do, but he knew he had to face whatever he found there, even if it was uncomfortable.

“May?” He tentatively asked, taking a seat across from the couple at the table. “You okay?”

Happy looked at him like he’d grown two heads, making Tony realize that was a stupid thing to ask. Of course she wasn’t okay! It was her nephew out there, the boy she raised. And while he was close to Peter, saw him as someone to look out for and protect, saw him as his kid too, he didn’t raise the boy. He’d known him for a measly two years compared to May’s sixteen, twelve of those spent being his parental figure. His mother.

“I—” May tried, seeming to stop herself when the words wouldn’t come.

“It was a rough night.” Happy answered for her. “Both of us just want Peter to come home.”

Tony gulped. “Me too.”

The three of them sat in silence for a few minutes after that, all lost in their own minds, all wallowing in their own sorrows. And once the silence became too heavy and oppressive, Tony stood from the table and went to make his coffee. 

He couldn’t handle simply sitting there. He couldn’t handle thinking.

At least when he was making coffee, he could go through the routine he preformed every morning. He could free his mind of all thought when doing something so basic and simple.

Because the silence in his mind was different to the silence in the room. The room had Happy and May and an unspoken desperation that was oppressive and suffocating.

He needed to free himself from it. Because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to cope.

After pushing start on the coffee machine, Tony tried to think of anything but the current situation. Enhancements to Rhodey’s War Machine armor, new bows and arrows for Clint, anything. Anything other than Peter. But by thinking about the other members of the team, it always came back to Peter, it always circled back to the kid he thought of as some sort of quasi-son. Because although he didn’t have children of his own, he had some sort of parental instinct to protect the kid. And he had failed. He failed at every part of that.

Tony sighed, staring at the timer on the coffee machine, watching the seconds count down. And in some way, watching the timer made him more aware of how long Peter had been gone. Because three days wasn’t a long time, but Tony knew, all too well, that it felt like forever when being held captive. Because even just one second in captivity was far too long.

And here he was. Standing around. Waiting for his coffee to brew. Waiting for a luxury that he didn’t really need when Peter was out there hurt and scared and everything in between. Tony squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. He couldn’t get the image of his terrified face in that video to leave his mind, and he probably never would.

_Think about Rhodey’s armor, think about Clint’s bows, think about Sam’s wings._ He told himself, repeating it over and over in his head, like a mantra.

But then, one moment morphed into the next, and suddenly Tony was aware of two things at once. Because the coffee machine beeped at the exact same moment the burner phone rang.

Time seemed to grind to a screeching halt, quickly and suddenly. And all he could hear was the sound of that annoying ring tone, and all he could feel was the vibrating in his pocket.

May and Happy were staring at him with startled expressions, Happy looking like a deer in headlights and May looking as pale as a ghost. He didn’t know how long the three of them stayed like that, frozen and astonished, but it felt like hours. It felt like an eternity. 

But finally, Tony found his way out of his stupor. Springing into action within milliseconds, he took the phone out of his pocket with shaking hands and flipped it open.

The drawling voice of Alvin greeted him. _“Hello, Stark. I was beginning to think you weren’t gonna pick up.”_

Tony opened and closed his mouth, no sound coming out, not knowing what to say. It still hadn’t dawned on him that he was actually on the phone with Peter’s captors, that they had actually called him back.

_“What is it?”_ Alvin cooed. _“Cat got your tongue?”_

“What do you want?” Tony ground out, finally finding his voice.

_“I never thought you would ask!”_ Alvin gleefully chirped. _“I need you to come get little Petey-Pie. We’ve had enough fun playing with him, and we’re sick of babysitting him.”_

Tony felt his heart shutter to a stop. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Were they finally going to be able to bring Peter home? Was this even real? Was it a figment of his imagination?

“Where is he? Wh—what do I need to—what do I need to do?” Tony croaked.

_“Calm down, Stark. You’ll have your pet back soon enough.”_ Alvin drawled. _“I’ll text you the address once we are done with this phone call, but I have some terms and conditions.”_

The breath caught in Tony’s chest at that. Of course there were terms and conditions. Of course. He shouldn’t have been naïve enough to expect any different.

_“First off,”_ Alvin began, _“you will come alone. Alone. No Avengers, no police, and especially no Iron Man suits. Just you.”_

Alone? Nothing? This wasn’t good. It had to be a trap with those kinds of terms.

_“Second, I will send you a link to a bank account.”_ Alvin continued, derailing Tony’s thoughts. _“You must deposit the four million into that account before you leave that compound of yours. We will be watching you. You can’t have the kid back until you pay.”_

Tony nodded, even though Alvin couldn’t see him. He nodded because he couldn’t find his voice.

_“Any questions?”_ Alvin mocked.

“I—I can’t bring a medical team? I saw that video. The one from the street…I know—I know he’s injured.”

Alvin paused for a moment, seeming to think it over. _“Fine. But they have to stay back until the exchange happens, got it? And you have to bring a private team. I know you have one. No one from a local hospital. Understood?”_

“Yes. Yes, I understand.”

_“Good. Follow my directions exactly, and you will get Petey-Pie back, but if you make one wrong move, I will blow his brains out. You understand?’_

Tony gulped. “Yes.”

_“Alright. I’ll text you those coordinates and the bank information. We will be expecting you withing the next twenty-four hours.”_

The line went dead after that. And Tony thought the dial tone would provide some sort of release, some way to let him breathe again, but it didn’t. It just made him feel more desperate to get Peter home. More desperate than ever.

What was he going to do? How was this going to work? He knew very well that he could be walking into a trap, that all of this could be a very bad idea, but the thought that he could have Peter back and safe within twenty-four hours was just too strong. As if his emotions were pulling him along, not his logic.

The burner phone vibrated in his hand at that moment. And looking down, Tony saw two texts from the number he had so thoroughly memorized, although not of his own volition. The first text was an address, as promised. But the location was what surprised Tony. If the goons were telling the truth, they were holding Peter hostage at some obscure address in Union City, New Jersey.

_They weren’t even in the state of New York._

Storing thoughts of how much of a headache a criminal prosecution was going to be in the back of his mind, Tony looked down at the second text, a link to a bank account with Apple Bank. The fact that the kidnappers were openly using a bank chain only in New York immediately set off a bunch of red flags in his brain. Red flags that he didn’t have the emotional capacity to deal with right now. Usually, these kinds of degenerates who did kidnapping ransoms used offshore banks. Ones that the United States had no jurisdiction over. Ones that would hinder an investigation if they were ever caught.

But none of that mattered right now. Not when he had an address, a location. Not when finding Peter was his top priority, and certainly not when May and Happy were looking at him with such fearful and confused expressions.

“I—” Tony began, finding his voice. “That was the guys who have Peter. They—they gave me a location. It’s right here.” He held up the phone.

May face immediately lit up. “That’s great! I will finally have my boy back.”

“Don’t get too excited.” Tony grumbled. “There’s—they have terms. _Conditions_.”

May’s face fell at that. Tony had to look away.

“What are they, boss?” Happy asked.

“They—well, it might be a trap.”

Happy raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that always a possibility with these things?”

“Yes, but they’ll kill Peter if—if I bring anyone else besides Helen’s medical team. They’ll kill him if I bring the team or any of my suits or the police or anything!”

“But the team is all here. They want to help.” Happy said “They can be on standby if anything happens.”

“But he’s not close! They nabbed him in Queens, remember?!” Tony all but yelled. “I have the address right here! They’re holding him in Jersey! In Union City! And you know better than anyone Hap, the PR nightmare that was the last time the Avengers went to Jersey. You know better than anyone that they always whine about keeping the destruction in New York.”

A silence fell over the room after that. The three of them seeming to come to a dead end. Not knowing how to proceed.

“But you can bring a medical team?” May asked when the silence went on for too long. “Like an ambulance?”

“Yeah.” Tony answered, slightly confused.

“Well, then use that to your advantage.” May said simply.

“What?”

“Use it to your advantage.” May repeated. “I used to be a nurse. You know that. And as a former nurse, I know that you are going to need an ambulance. Because Peter’s—Peter’s not in good shape.” She gulped. Looking as if she was about to cry.

“I was planning on bringing an ambulance, May.” Tony answered gently. “Helen’s been on standby since Peter was taken. But that doesn’t fix our problem with backup.”

“Yes, it does, Tony. Use that inventor’s brain of yours!” May replied, getting to her feet and pacing around the dining table. “If you have an ambulance, you have a good amount of space to transport things—or people—with few windows.” 

“May…” Tony trailed off. “You can’t seriously be thinking what I think you’re thinking.”

May stared at him at that. She stared at him with one of her I’m-completely-judging-you-right-now looks. It always intimidated Tony in a way Pepper couldn’t even accomplish. It always sent a shiver down his spine.

“I’m thinking, Tony, that the back of an ambulance can hold a maximum of four people, not including the patient. The front can hold two. You and Helen can sit in the front, and two medical workers can occupy the back. Which means you’ll have two extra spots. Perfect for smuggling two team members into the site undetected.”

“May!” Tony cried, shooting to his feet. “That’s asinine! You know those guys are watching my every move! You know they’ll kill Peter if I bring any Avengers along. They are watching the compound like a hawk! Even if we successfully keep two team members hidden in the back of the ambulance, their surveillance will see them _get inside_!”

“You’re being completely idiotic, Tony! This facility, which _you_ designed, has an underground parking garage!” May paused, taking a deep breath and collecting herself. “If you park the ambulance in the in the parking garage, they won’t see anything!”

“She has a point, Boss.” Happy said.

Tony deflated at that. He needed to put the part of himself that was a total control freak on the back burner for just a little while. He needed to accept that maybe, just maybe, those who cared about him had good ideas too.

“Fine.” He answered, gritting his teeth and straightening his back. “I’ll talk to Nat and Steve. We’ll see what we can do. But if Peter—if something happens…”

“Don’t think like that, Tony.” May said, coming close and putting a hand on his shoulder. “We’re gonna get him back in one piece. He’ll be just fine.”

Instead of indulging in May’s baseless reassurances, Tony backed away, pulling out his Stark Phone. “I’m gonna go call Helen.”

And then he spun on his heel, walked toward the door, and left the room. He had to put his emotions behind him for the time being, even if it meant running away and secluding himself from those he loved.

Because getting Peter back was all that mattered. 

\--

There was commotion all around him.

Noise. Rustling. Talking. Occasional yelling.

But he didn’t understand it. He was in some sort of fog.

Peter groaned in pain then. Nothing made sense, but everything hurt. His cheek, his shoulder, his arm. His legs were tingling horribly from being in a sitting position for so long. He could barely feel them.

He was so weak. So thirsty and so hungry. He didn’t know how long it had been since he last ate or drank. Certainly no one here had given him anything.

A wave of dizziness swept over him, and he lost himself for a moment, as if he’d passed out momentarily.

Nothing made sense anymore. The last solid, concrete memory Peter was sure of, the last thing that didn’t feel like a hallucination, a figment of his imagination, was John and Kevin checking on him. Making sure he was alive by punching him in the face. On the side with the broken cheekbone. They had pointed out his sick then, noticing it in his lap and on his shirt, mocking him for his mess. Not even willing to change out his vomit-coated gag.

It was demoralizing.

But now, in the moments he was able to hone in his focus, he could hear them in the back room. They were moving things, papers, equipment, something on wheels. It sounded frantic and rushed. Peter didn’t understand it. Boot-clad footsteps move quickly. He could hear Alvin barking out orders to the other two, telling them to hurry, to destroy all evidence.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, Peter knew this was important, he knew he should listen and figure out what was happening if he wanted to continue his fight for survival, but he was in so much pain, so disoriented, so exhausted. Using his super hearing effortlessly was impossible in a time like this. He couldn’t focus on what they were saying, no matter how hard he tried.

His mind and body both felt like molasses. Soup. A bone-deep exhaustion coursed through him. If he wasn’t tied to the chair, he knew he would crumple into himself and fall to the floor. Like a puppet that was cut from its strings.

And belatedly, Peter realized that was his position in this situation. A puppet. He was a pawn in the game his kidnappers were forcing Mr. Stark to play. He didn’t know how to feel about it.

A disorienting and woozy feeling overtook him again, causing a chill to go over his skin. Time seemed to disappear, and Peter didn’t even realize the moment he zoned out. He didn’t even realize his consciousness had slipped until his chin made sudden, painful contact with his chest.

Coming to his senses again was like momentarily getting his head above water in the choppy and fraught waves of a stormy ocean.

It didn’t feel real.

And then there was silence.

Nothing.

And Peter realized he must have been zoned out for longer than he thought. Because the commotion from the back room was oddly absent. There was no more talking, no more boots hitting the concrete floor, and no more movement.

He was alone. Utterly and unequivocally alone.

The thought made him both excited and terrified at the same time. Because he could escape! But what if it was a trap? What if someone was hiding in the shadows, ready to pounce on him at any moment?

But he knew he had to make a run for it. Because he had everything to gain and nothing to lose. If they were really gone, then he would be free, but if they were still here, then he would continue to be tortured and demoralized in a way that was starting to become numbing.

Using all his focus to make sure there truly wasn’t anything going on in the back room, Peter listened.

And all he heard was silence.

It was time to make a break for it. It was time to get out of here and find his way home.

But just as he was about to stand, Peter realized he was still tied up, still gagged, and still injured. But if no one was around, he could use his super strength to his advantage. He could get out easily, despite the sharp stabs of pain he felt.

He would just have to suck it up.

Taking a couple of deep breaths in order to steady his heartbeat and calm his nerves, he thought about May. He thought about the way her face would light up at his return, he thought about the way Mr. Stark’s features would relax, the fond smile that would take up his face, the one that was saved just for him. But then, unbidden, thoughts of May being impaled in the chest by Toomes, thoughts of Mr. Stark being tortured to death by the Scorpion came to his mind, fogging up his conscious and making him question his reality. Question it in the way he had been doing for what felt like an eternity at this point.

He still didn’t know what was real.

Yet, despite his feelings of uncertainty and hopelessness, he knew he had to carry on. Because Peter didn’t know when Alvin and his cohorts would be back, or if they would be back. He had to take the opportunity while it lasted.

Deciding it was now or never, Peter heaved and grunted, exerting all his strength in order to rip the huge bundle of duct tape tying his arms and ankles up. In order to get free.

But then he was met with unyielding, burning pain. It felt like he had been washed in fire or thrown into a pit of burning coals. His whole body was alight. He’d forgotten how to breathe. His right shoulder and arm burned with excruciating clarity, the pain pulsing in time with his heartbeat, causing his vision to white out momentarily.

Pins and needles set fire to the nerves in his legs, making him feel as if hordes of wasps were stinging him. He tried to suck in a breath. He tried to breathe around the pain. But the air was getting caught in his chest, and the fear that had been momentarily vanquished returned with a vengeance.

He looked down at himself then, finding the duct tape binding him to the chair was still there. Still in the same exact place. It hadn’t moved or stretched at all. His super strength either completely annihilated by the lack of food and water, or his injuries too great to let his powers be of any use.

Nothing had changed.

And then the stark reality of the situation hit. The reality that he was stuck in this dingy, damp and dark warehouse. That he would be stuck until someone came to save him.

_If_ someone came to save him.

As far as he knew, nobody knew where he was. He knew Mr. Stark would be looking, but that thought brought him no consolidation. He could be anywhere, a foreign country even. After all, he’d been sedated for who knows how long before waking up in this place, and his grasp on time since the abduction had been completely obliterated. 

His thoughts sought to overwhelm him. He was completely alone in an abandoned warehouse with grave injuries and no one knew his location.

And for the first time since he’d been taken, tears began to stream down his face. They stung the cuts on his face and felt like a heavy weight on his broken cheekbone. Everything felt hopeless and terrifying and bleak. Nothing felt real anymore, and that scared him more than anything. Because how could he be feeling all these powerful emotions, but also feeling distant and fake at the same time?

It was confusing and petrifying.

Then another wave of cold spread over his body, followed quickly by an oddly comforting burst of warmth spreading over him like a blanket. And Peter let unconsciousness consume him. There was nothing to stay awake for anymore. There was nothing to fight for anymore.

His world faded to black.

\--

Depositing the money into Alvin’s account hadn’t taken too long, and Tony didn’t even feel slightly upset about giving such evil people four million dollars. Because at least they hadn’t asked for his suits or weapons technology or classified intelligence that the Avengers had gathered.

Small miracles.

Helen had answered in the middle of the first ring, clearly ready and waiting to hear some good news. After all, she was fond Peter, that Tony knew. Even if she had never explicitly stated so. Tony could hear the concern in her voice when he told her to be ready for anything. When he told her Peter’s condition could be…well…really bad.

She arrived at the compound in a frazzled frenzy. Her hair was pulled up on her head in a messy fashion, and her lab coat was rumpled and crinkled. Her eyes were wide and alert, but also filled with a fear Tony never wanted to see on her usually stalwart and stoic face. 

He also talked to Steve and Natasha, both of them ready and willing to come along as back up. Tony didn’t think they would turn him down in the first place, but it was nice to see the eager and determined expressions on their faces.

And now the four of them were gathered in the back of the ambulance—parked in the underground parking garage as May had suggested—discussing the plan to rescue Peter. To bring him home. The two paramedics from Tony’s personal team that would be going with them were asked to stay inside until it was time to leave, just as an extra precaution. Because while Tony had thoroughly vetted the medical team that worked for him, he was also filled with trust issues and paranoia. It couldn’t be helped.

“Now, Steve, Nat.” Tony said, addressing the pair of Avengers at his side. “Both of you will stay hidden here in the back. Preferably sitting on the floor underneath this.” He said, gesturing to the gurney. “I know it’s not ideal, but the guys said they’d—they’d _kill_ Peter if I came with anyone that wasn’t medical, but—but if this is a trap, I’m gonna need all the help I can get.”

Both Avengers nodded solemnly. Even Natasha, who generally masked her emotions, looked a little wary and nervous.

“The windows are tinted, Tony.” Helen said, flicking a switch to make them go even darker.

“I know. But I’m not taking any chances. This is Peter’s _life_ we are talking about!”

Helen nodded. “I understand.” 

“Good. Well, Helen, you and I will ride up front. I’ll drive since I have the address. It’s going to be a tight squeeze, but we are going to need to fit the two paramedics here in the back with you two.” He said, pointing to Steve and Natasha.

“Now, per the kidnappers’ request, I have to go in there first…alone.” Tony paused, looking at the astonished faces of those around him. “I know that doesn’t sound very good, and like I said, it might be a trap, but these sunglasses—a Tony Stark signature—have FRIDAY installed in them. I’ve connected her to the electrical components of this vehicle, and there will be a small, quiet beep that will sound both in the front and the back if I need help. All I need to do is hold my index finger and thumb to the right side of these glasses for five seconds.” 

Tony took a moment to demonstrate the action, preparing the group for what the quiet alarm would sound like.

“If you get the alert,” Tony continued, turning to Steve and Natasha, and putting his hands back in his pockets, “both of you need to come in, guns-a-blazin’ and ready for a fight. Hopefully we can get out of this without having to do that…but we have to be prepared for the worst.”

Steve nodded vigorously. “For Peter, we’ll do anything.” 

“I’m glad to hear that.” Tony said, blinking and looking away.

And then after a moment, he continued. “If everything goes well, and the exchange happens peacefully, I have two options. One, if Peter is well enough to walk, I’ll bring him out to the ambulance, so keep an eye out for that. But if he’s…if his condition is bad enough, I will call Helen on my phone and ask you guys to come inside.”

“Even Steve and I?” Natasha asked. “Do you want us to come inside too?”

Tony didn’t know how to answer that question. It all depended on Alvin and his two goons. It depended on if they were still a threat once he got his hands on Peter.

“We’ll play it by ear.” Tony finally said. 

“Anything else we need to know?” Helen asked.

Tony sighed. “I don’t think so. Let’s bring Peter home.”

\--

The abandoned and dilapidated warehouse on the outskirts of Union City looked like the most stereotypical kidnapping and ransom location Tony had ever seen. It made his skin crawl, causing him to morosely wonder what kind of horrors Peter faced in there.

Currently, the ambulance was parked strategically behind two rusted, overturned dumpsters and a few half-dead trees. The location was important to Tony. Because if the press got wind of what was going down, he knew they would try to film as much as they could. He wouldn’t put it past them at this point, and he knew, for Peter’s sake, that it would be important to shield their operations from the public eye.

A pit of dread formed in his stomach. He didn’t want to go in that warehouse. He didn’t want to face the fear of seeing Peter like that. Of seeing what he saw on the video.

But he had to, or he would never get his kid back.

He had to do it.

“Alright.” Tony said, steeling himself and taking a deep breath. “I’m going in.”

“Be careful.” Helen said, looking for all the world like she wasn’t prepared for any of this.

Her look scared Tony. She was usually so put together and so calm. Seeing her look so frightened for the second time today did nothing for his peace of mind. It did nothing but put him more on edge.

At a loss for words, Tony decided on nodding in affirmation as he slipped on his signature sunglasses and opened the door. He’d dressed in one of his nicest suits for the occasion, a grey Tom Ford with light-brown Oxfords. The outfit wasn’t really fit for a rescue mission in an abandoned warehouse, but it would have to do.

He didn’t really know why he did it per se, but it did cause the sunglasses to stand out less. At least, that was his excuse. If he really wanted to examine the reasons, it would probably be along the lines of a security blanket of sorts. A way to put on his rich and pompous billionaire façade in order to mask his true feelings. In order to keep himself from examining them.

Gravel crunched under his feet as he made his way toward the front of the building. His hands were shaking in his pockets. Because he didn’t know what he was about to find, and a part of him didn’t even want to know. He didn’t want to see what he saw on that video Alvin sent him in person, he didn’t want to see Peter all tied up and in such a state.

And as he reached the door, he took a deep breath before pushing it open. He had to collect himself. He had to be on his A-game. Peter’s life was on the line.

The first thing Tony noticed upon entering was how damp and musty the place was. It clearly hadn’t been in operation for quite some time. Secondly, he became aware of how dim the building was, only lit from the natural light coming from the broken windows that were high up on the walls. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, the coppery scent of blood began wafting towards him. It was enough to propel his feet forward. It was enough to arm him with a sort of bravery he couldn’t feel.

Because he had to find Peter.

“Hello?” He called, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible. “Hello? I’m here, Alvin. You’ve got me right where you want me. It’s Tony Stark.”

He was met with silence. And then, after a few tense moments, a low and quiet groan coming from somewhere in front of him was all he heard.

Unnerving. It was unnerving.

It was too quiet. Silent. Something was wrong. Where were Alvin and his guys? Where was Peter? Was that the groan he heard? Was that Peter?

“Hello?” He called again, feeling more and more uneasy with each passing second. “Hello? Alvin? Quit the charades, just come out from wherever you are, and we can talk.”

He heard another groan. This one was more distinct. As if it was a muffled voice. A voice trying to say something that almost sounded like the word _help._ Like a plea.

Common sense flew out the window at that moment. Because Peter was here. That was Peter! It had to be! The guard Tony had put up, the walls he had built to protect himself suddenly crumbled away. And all the things that had been floating around in his head, all the thoughts about it being a trap, about Peter being bait slipped away when he heard that voice. When he heard the broken and scared way Peter sounded.

“Peter? Peter is that you?” Tony called, walking further and further inside. “Please tell me that it’s you. Where are you?”

The groan sounded again, this time even more intelligible. Clearer, but still muffled. As if the voice was trying to speak around something that was obstructing their mouth.

_Help._

Peter wanted help. That was definitely the word _help._ There was no doubt in Tony’s mind this time. Yet, something in Peter’s voice wasn’t right. Something was off. But Tony couldn’t put his finger on it. Was it even Peter? Or was this some sort of game?

“FRIDAY.” He whispered, touching one finger to the frames on bridge of his nose. “Scan the building for life forms. Tell me how many people are in here.”

And as FRIDAY did as he asked, the sound of debris continued to crunch under his feet as he made his way—slowly—closer and closer to the voice. Closer and closer to Peter.

“There are two life forms in this building.” His AI answered. “You, and as my scanners suggest, Peter Benjamin Parker, age sixteen, also known as Spider-Man.”

Tony gulped. This all felt too easy. It felt wrong. Where was Alvin? Where were his goons? Sure, he already sent them the money, but they acted like they would be here. They acted like they wanted to see his face when they gave him back his kid.

“Check again, FRIDAY.” He said, the feeling of trepidation returning.

“Sure thing, Boss.”

And when FRIDAY announced the same result, the same outcome, he didn’t know what to think. But he did know he couldn’t be alone in here any longer.

Tony decided to do two things at once. With one hand, he activated the alert for Steve and Nat on his glasses, and with the other, he pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight function.

The area directly in front of him was suddenly bathed in harsh, LED light, illuminating his path. And as he took a few more steps forward, a harrowing and unimaginable sight came into view. The sight of Peter.

Tony stopped in his tracks. He became frozen as he took in the scene in front of him. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, he couldn’t breathe at the sight of Peter. It was worse than the last time he’d seen the kid. It was worse than the video. It was more horrible than he could have ever imagined.

Peter was slumped forward on an ancient-looking chair, clearly exhausted and out of it. The only thing holding him up were bonds made out of duct tape that secured his ankles to the legs of the chair, and his arms behind his back. Peter was staring up at him with a confused and horrifyingly vacant expression, squinting at the harsh light emanating from his cell phone. It was then that Tony noticed the gag. It was then that he noticed the revolting way Alvin and his henchmen sought to dehumanize Peter even further. Because Tony had naively thought that it had just been for the video, that they didn’t want Peter speaking when Tony could hear. But now he realized they left him like that. They left him like that even after they had abandoned this place.

Tony turned his head. He needed to figure out a way to reign in his emotions, to get himself under control. Because Peter needed him. But he couldn’t deny how difficult it was to look at his face. To look at the swelling bruises and the glossy, far-away look in his eyes. It tore him up inside in a way he didn’t want to let himself feel. Because it reminded him of Afghanistan. Of how he must have looked. Pitiful and scared and hopeless. He couldn’t bear it.

What was he going to do? How were they going to come back from this? Peter was clearly severely injured. He was clearly confused and traumatized. His body was covered in blood, dirt and grime. It was hard for Tony to even see the bright-eyed kid he knew so well underneath all of that.

“Pe—Peter?” He finally said, voice stuttering and unsure. “Are—are you—.” Tony cut himself off. Of course Peter wasn’t okay. All he had to do was look at him to see that. And even if he was, he wouldn’t be able to answer him. He wouldn’t be able to talk.

Tony suddenly had a fierce desire to take Peter into his arms, to rip that gag right off his face and to hold him until every injury and every ounce of trauma had healed itself. But just as he took a few more steps forward, just as he reached out his hand, the doors to the warehouse burst open and the room was swathed in artificial light.

It took Tony a moment to realize that Steve and Natasha had come to his rescue. It took him a moment to realize they were the ones who had turned on the lights Tony didn’t even realize worked in the first place. And as he turned to face his teammates, he took in the confused expressions on their faces, the way they lowered their weapons and turned their running back into walking.

“What’s going on here?” Steve asked. “I thought—you said the alarm was for backup.”

“Yeah…well…I’m a little spooked here.” Tony said, running a hand through his hair. “There’s nobody here. Only—only Peter. Something isn’t right. FRIDAY’s scans didn’t pick up anyone else but…”

“I’ll take a look around.” Natasha said, raising her pistols back into the air and walking toward an unmarked door.

Steve nodded. “Good idea. I’ll come with you.” And then, turning back to Tony, he said, “get Helen in here. Peter doesn’t—well, he needs her help. And call the police. I think we’re alone.”

At a loss for words, Tony nodded, watching Steve and Natasha disappear into another part of the building. He looked down at his hands then. They were shaking still, and maybe even worse than before. That’s when he noticed his phone. When he noticed the flashlight was still shining needlessly around the room. After turning it off, he called Helen, telling her to come in and bring the two paramedics with her. Because with the way Peter looked, Tony knew he wouldn’t be walking out of here on his own.

Then he dialed 911, knowing the cops would attract the media, knowing this was going to turn into a giant mess of investigations and questioning and interrogations. But he had no other choice. He had to bring Alvin and his men to justice no matter what. He had to do it for Peter.

And when the call was over, Tony turned back to the kid. He looked even worse in the improved lighting. The bruising on his face looked horrific, taking up almost the entire right side of his face and causing his right eye to swell closed. Then Tony saw his right arm and shoulder. The way they were strangely bent made Tony want to vomit. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how Peter felt.

He wanted to give the kid a fierce hug. One that told him he was safe now. One that told him he could rest and that everything would be okay. But Tony didn’t know how to touch him without hurting him further. Every inch of his body looked beat and exhausted.

Finally, he settled on taking Peter’s left hand in his own, squeezing it tightly to convey that everything would be okay. The kid let out a low groan at that, making Tony realize he had to remove that gag. Because Peter needed to be able to talk. He needed to be able to be heard.

Tony sucked in a breath as he moved his hands toward Peter’s battered face. “This is probably gonna hurt, kiddo. I’m so sorry.” 

And as he began to peel the duct tape from Peter’s mouth, Tony winced when he saw the state of the gag. When he saw how dry it was and when he took in the pungent smell of dried vomit. The duct tape was leaving red, angry marks around Peter’s mouth and on his lips, and Tony didn’t want to think about how long he had been left with his mouth taped shut like that.

“There we go.” Tony said as he removed the wad of fabric from Peter’s mouth. “It’s going to be okay.”

Peter was barely responsive, only groaning in pain, eyes fluttering shut. Tony wished he would say something, anything. Because he was beginning to worry that the kid was far worse off than he previously imagined.

The doors to the front of the warehouse burst open again, Helen and her team rushing in with the gurney and plenty of supplies in tow. Once they made their way over to the pair, Helen’s eyes roved over Peter, taking a moment to assess his injuries. And after a moment, she turned and looked at Tony with a strange mix of horror and pity on her face.

I was something he never wanted to see. Ever.

“Just…” Tony began. “We have to get him out of here.”

Helen snapped into action then, ordering the two paramedics to get rid of the mountains of duct tape keeping Peter tethered to the chair as she held his head up and shined a flashlight into his eyes.

Tony moved out of the way and watched as the three of them quickly worked to free Peter. An unexplainable sense of dread was rising up inside of him. He should be happy; he should be jumping for joy. Because he had Peter back, they were giving him the best first aid that money could buy, and the goons were nowhere to be found.

But that was just the problem. Everything felt off-kilter and unsettling. Where were Alvin and his men? They were supposed to be here. And while there was no clear and present danger in the warehouse, Tony knew this act of abandonment had to be for a reason.

Tony sighed. Because it wasn’t over. It was far from over. He’d been in the superhero business too long to be naïve in that regard. Disappearance could only mean one thing. It could only mean that whatever plan Alvin and his henchmen had, it wasn’t fulfilled yet. It wasn’t over.

Just then, Steve and Natasha returned from the back room. They were emptyhanded. And he wasn’t surprised.

“There’s nothing back there, Tony.” Steve said. “There’s a firepit around the back of the building that has been used recently, probably to burn documents, but nothing is salvageable.”

Natasha nodded. “It looks like they took everything and ran.” 

“But—but why?” Tony said, mostly to himself. “They said they would meet me here.”

“Who knows.” Natasha shrugged.

The three Avengers fell silent after a moment, watching as Helen and her team situated Peter on a backboard, inserted an IV into his hand, and put a cervical collar around his neck. And it dawned on Tony that he didn’t even know the extent of Peter’s injuries. 

After a moment of silent staring, Steve spoke again. “Is there anything else you want us to do?”

“I don’t th—actually there is.” Tony said. “I called the cops. They should be here soon. Why don’t the both of you go to the front of the building and wait for them. Maybe explain the situation to them once they get here. I don’t think I can—I just need to be with Peter. I can’t deal with the police right now.”

Steve put a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Okay. We’ll do that. Take a few deep breaths, Tony. It’ll be okay. Everything will work out.”

The fear eating away at the pit of Tony’s stomach made it impossible to believe Steve’s words, but he nodded along anyway. It wasn’t the time for an argument.

Turning back to Peter and the medical team, Tony decided to find out just how injured Peter truly was. “What’s wrong with him?” He asked.

Helen looked up at him, her previously open features now carefully schooled. “Actually, I was hoping you could have FRIDAY give us a report. We have some answers, but until a scan is done, we won’t know everything.”

Tony mentally berated himself. Why didn’t he think of this the moment he reached Peter’s side? It should have been one of the first things he did. He was so useless when Peter was in danger. Utterly useless.

“Uh. Okay.” He stammered. “FRIDAY scan Peter for injuries, will you?”

“Scanning, Boss.”

And as injury after injury popped up on the right lens of his glasses, Tony began to feel lightheaded and sick to his stomach. “This—it isn’t good.” He finally said, voice wobbling and knowing he couldn’t read the report to Helen. “FRIDAY, read—read the report aloud for the medical team.”

“Sure thing, Boss.” The comforting and familiar Irish accent said. “Peter has sustained several fractures. Namely, a shattered right cheekbone, a broken right eye socket, a broken right elbow, and a fracture to the right side of his pelvis with slight internal bleeding. He has also sustained a dislocated right shoulder, a minor concussion, road rash on his right leg, arm, face and torso, and severe dehydration and low blood sugar from a lack of food and water. He also has bruising on much of his body. I recommend flying him back to the compound, as he is showing early signs of going into shock.”

“Fucking hell.” Tony said, running a hand through his hair.

Helen just sighed. “I’m not surprised. He hit that Humvee really hard, and its been three days without any medical attention or basic necessities such as food, water, and rest to let his body heal.”

Tony nodded, trying desperately to hold back the tears that were trying to leak from his eyes.

“And sitting on that chair like that…all tied up…” Helen continued. “Well, it’s not helpful for any of his injuries.”

Tony didn’t know what to say. All of this was a nightmare. Peter was going to have a seriously arduous recovery ahead of him, both physically and mentally. Everything was so much more complicated than he thought it would be when he barged in here. Everything was a big, ginormous mess.

“Tony.” Helen said, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing gently. “Come talk to Peter for a minute, okay? Keep him calm. I’m going to call Bruce and have him bring the quinjet. We need to get him back to the compound medbay as soon as possible.”

Tony simply nodded along, moving sluggishly and feeling like he was in some sort of tunnel. Nothing felt real anymore. This had to be some kind of nightmare.

Once Helen moved away, putting her phone to her ear, Tony crouched down next to Peter. The kid looked horrible in every way. Discounting the parts of his face that were injured, he was extremely pale and sick-looking, and his eyes roved beneath his closed lids. He was strapped to a backboard on top of the gurney, neck also locked in place by a cervical collar. He had a line of fluids on his left hand, along with an O2 sensor and a heart monitor on his chest. His dirty and torn clothes had been cut away from his body by the medical personnel, leaving him only in his socks and underwear, covered with some shock blankets to keep him warm.

Deciding to offer some comfort, Tony began to run his fingers through Peter’s, grimy, sweaty and dirty hair. FRIDAY said he had a mild concussion, but luckily the medical team hadn’t found any open wounds on his head, giving him the go ahead to offer the kid some comfort. To let him know he was safe. That he wasn’t alone.

“Just relax, kiddo. Everything is going to be okay.” Tony began. “Helen’s calling Bruce. Were gonna fly back to the compound in the quinjet. You’ll like that. I know you’ve always wanted to ride in it. This’ll be your first time, huh.”

Peter opened his eyes at the sound of Tony’s talking, surprising the man slightly. It gave Tony no comfort to notice that Peter’s eyes were just as glassy and droopy as they were earlier. The kid looked utterly exhausted and extremely confused.

“Be—be—” Peter began, trying to get words out around his dry mouth and injured face.

“Shhhhhh.” Tony placated, continuing to run a hand through Peter’s hair. “Don’t try to talk right now. I know it hurts, but we’re getting you help.”

“Be—” Peter tried again, attempting to swallow, attempting to get some moisture in his mouth.

Tony wanted to give him some water, but he didn’t have any, and he didn’t know if Helen and her team would even allow it at this point.

“Shhhhhhh. It’s okay. Just relax.”

Peter looked like he was about to cry. He looked so broken. So scared.

And then he opened his mouth, getting the words out this time. And Tony’s stomach dropped to his knees.

“Ben…” Peter croaked, slurring his words. “Ben…you—you’re alive?”

Tony didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to do. His body was frozen with some sort of emotion he had no way to describe.

Peter tried to reach up his broken arm after a moment of Tony’s silence, crying out in pain as he did so.

Tony acted at that, gently putting his arm back into position on the gurney. “It’s okay, Peter. Just stay calm, okay? We’re getting you help.”

“Ben…”

“Not Ben. Tony. It’s Tony. I’m here to help, okay?”

“Oh—okay.” Peter stammered, eyes closing and body relaxing as he gave up the fight to stay conscious.

It left Tony in the quiet. Wondering what the hell happened here. What transpired to make Peter so confused that he mistook Tony for his late uncle? Even when Peter had been terribly injured on other occasions, this had never happened before.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t good. It wasn’t good at all. And he was hoping it was just the shock, the concussion, and all his other injuries talking. He hoped and prayed that they hadn’t messed with his kid’s head. He hoped and prayed that Peter’s sanity was still intact.

He could hear the faint sound of sirens in the distance, getting closer and closer with each passing second. The police were coming, and he wasn’t ready to face them. To face any sort of questions when Peter was like this. When he had to protect and shield him from any more harm.

Tony sighed. He seemed to be doing a lot of that today. Because it was his only way to hold in his emotions, or else he would break down and cry, and he couldn’t let himself do that.

Today was the longest day of his life.

By far. And it wasn’t even close to over yet.

Nothing that happened in Afghanistan compared to this. Nothing compared to the pain of seeing his kid hurt like this.

Nothing. 


	8. Ephemeral Abductions VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I'm so sorry it's been so long since I updated last. Hopefully the 11k length of this chapter will make up for my long absence. Life has been crazy busy for me the past couple months. And in addition to real life getting in the way, this chapter was a complete beast to write, and I'm just glad it's done at this point lol. The medical research I had to do for this chapter drove me bonkers!   
> \--  
> There is a very *very* small Ultimate Spider-Man (comics) easter egg in this chapter. I'm not going to say what it is because it will actually spoil a plot point/twist that will come in to play in the future, but for those of you who are familiar with these comics, keep your eyes peeled! ;)

Peter was underwater.

He was flying underwater.

At least, it felt that way. Because he felt like he was floating. Because he thought he heard the constant hum of jet engines.

But he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t be sure about anything because he was confused and scared. His mind was empty in a way he couldn’t make sense of. Because every time he tried to reach out and grab a thought, grab a memory, it sailed away from his grasp.

And then all he felt was pain. It was white hot and burning his body. Peter wasn’t aware of crying out, but he must have, because suddenly a voice was shushing him, trying to soothe him, and talking to someone else in the vicinity. Maybe it was talking to him, but he didn’t know how to respond, not when the meaning of the jumbled mess of words went right over his head.

_“I need you to push more of Cap’s painkillers.”_

_“Helen, that’s crazy! We can’t do that! He’s already had twice as much as we give Steve himself!”_

_“Just do it, Bruce. His genetic makeup is different. He can tolerate more.”_

_“I—but—”_

_“Do what she says, Big Green! We need him to stay calm and out of it until we reach the compound and can give him his own meds.”_

Peter recognized that voice. It was familiar. It was the one trying to keep him calm earlier.

_“Fine. Pushing Soldier Pain Serum Fifty-Nine.”_

At those nonsensical words and syllables, a blanket of warmth and peace and quiet entered his veins and he knew no more.

Floating.

\--

Tony sat just outside the operating room in the compound’s medbay. It was the first moment he had to himself since waking up that morning. It was the first moment of quiet and silence since getting the call from Alvin. But despite the physical serenity of the space he was in, his emotional state was loud and tumultuous and wouldn’t stop blaring with noise.

Because he couldn’t stop thinking about everything that had happened in the past few hours. He couldn’t stop reliving the nightmare.

Once the cops had arrived on the scene, there was chaos. The blaring sirens frightened Peter to the point where he kept trying to escape the straps and buckles that were keeping him secure and safe on the gurney, making him cry out in pain and confusion and fear.

And on top of trying to placate the kid, Steve and Nat were unable to hold off the police. They stormed into the warehouse and demanded to talk to him, demanded to see Peter with their own eyes. And they weren’t nice either. Tony made a mental note for his future self to avoid New Jersey cops at all costs.

The only saving grace was Peter going into shock, oddly enough. Because at least that gave him an excuse, an out, a way to get away from the pestering questions of the authorities he had no mental abilities to deal with.

But then the twenty-minute Quinjet ride was met with its own problems. Peter’s pain killers weren’t on board. In hindsight, Tony knew it was obvious that they wouldn’t be, after all Peter had never rode in the Quinjet before, and he had never gone on a group mission with the whole team either. But it was incredibly inconvenient none the less. Because Peter didn’t take well to Cap’s painkillers. The kid was so strong and so resistant that he required massive doses of the stuff. It was a twenty-minute nightmare Tony didn’t ever want to relive again.

Peter was currently in surgery. He had been rushed into the operating room the moment they burst through the doors, Helen not even taking a moment to explain to him what they needed to do to keep Peter alive.

It had been thirty minutes since then. Since the chaos ground to a halt and Tony found a moment to breathe. But he hadn’t done anything. He hadn’t washed Peter’s blood and grime off his hands. He hadn’t changed his rumpled and dirty suit. He just sat there. Waiting and alone. Just how he wanted it to be. He didn’t even know where everyone else was, or why they hadn’t come down here themselves. But he didn’t really care either. He was only thinking about Peter.

“We’ve been waiting upstairs for you.” A voice to his left said. “I thought you would come clean yourself up by now.”

“May.” Tony answered, looking toward the source of the voice. “Why didn’t you—why weren’t—”

“Why wasn’t I down here ages ago?” She answered, raising an eyebrow.

Tony exhaled. “Yeah.”

“Because,” May began, taking a moment to sit in the chair next to him, “what’s the use of waiting around and wallowing in self-pity?”

She had a point.

But Tony also couldn’t see himself leaving this spot any time soon. May was much stronger willed than he could ever hope to be.

“You need to change. Go wash yourself up.” She said, roving a critical eye over him.

“I know.”

“Well, come on then.”

“May…I just—not right now.” The desperation was thick in his voice. Even he could hear it.

He needed to be here in case something happened. In case Helen and Bruce needed him for something. In case things he didn’t even want to mentally entertain transpired.

May was dealing with it her way, and he would deal with it his.

And Tony couldn’t help but think her constitution was much stronger than his was. He didn’t know how she hadn’t broken yet, how she wasn’t a befuddled mess the way he was. In one way, it was incredible. And it the other, it was terrifying.

May sighed, cutting into the silence and dragging Tony away from his thoughts. The sigh was deep and weighted, but the words she spoke were even more so. “Peter’s been through so much and he’s only sixteen. Too much. No kid should have to experience what he has. And—and I know life’s not fair, but I can’t help but think Peter got an unfair amount of unfairness.”

Tony couldn’t argue with that. And in fact, he’d been thinking much the same way the past few days. But hearing May say it aloud and _to him_ made him feel a sudden retribution, a sudden, painful feeling of being pushed away, of being unwanted.

“Sometimes—sometimes I wish he was never bitten by that spider.” She continued, looking stressed and running a hand through her hair. “I know it’s selfish, and I know being Spider-Man brings him joy and satisfaction, but there’s a lot of—there’s a lot of pain that seems to come along with it. I just—I wish—”

“You wish he’d never met me?” Tony cut in.

May looked taken aback and slightly offended. “What?! No! Tony, why do you think that? Why do you continue to _let yourself_ think that?”

“I—this wouldn’t have happened if he didn’t know me.”

“We’ve gone over this already.” May sighed, exasperated. “He would have died doing his vigilante stuff _ages ago_ if you hadn’t come along!” 

“But—”

“Look, Tony. We’ve had this conversation before. There’s no need to talk in circles. So, I need you to listen to me. I need you to listen real good.”

And Tony knew she meant business. The fire and passion in her eyes showed nothing short of that. It was a little scary if he was being honest with himself. Because the way she was committed, the way she took his dirty and bloody hands in her own and stared into his soul show her intensity. Her desperation.

“Don’t you dare run away from him.” She began, voice low and sharp. “Don’t you dare make excuses to disappear from his life. I know you don’t feel good about yourself right now, but Peter needs you now more than ever. The coming weeks and months are going to be hard for him, and we have to be his rock-solid foundation. We _have to._ And I—I can only do so much. I can only try my best to understand what he’s going through, but I know I will never understand no matter how hard I try. But you, Tony, you understand what all this entails. You are the only person in Peter’s life that can understand what he just went through. You can’t run away this time. I won’t let you.”

The silence that came over the room after that was deafening. And Tony wanted, desperately, to look away from May’s eyes. Because he saw a deep anguish there. Because he saw the cracks, the points where she wanted to break, and Tony didn’t understand how she was keeping it together when his own eyes were swimming with unshed tears.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t look away because he had to find a way to understand this woman who just so confidently dressed him down and forced his guilt complex to come crashing back to reality.

“May…” He said, trailing off. “How are you—how are you so calm and collected when you haven’t seen Peter yet? When you don’t know if—if—if he’s okay.”

May sucked in a sharp breath, looking at him with some sort of undefinable look. “Sometimes, Tony, people can put on an act. They can look okay on the outside when they are really dying inside. And—and that’s how I feel right now.”

The answer was so simple, so basic. The kind of answer he should have thought of himself. But somehow, someway, it made him feel so hollow inside.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” May echoed.

Silence fell after that. Neither of them had anything else to say.

\--

Evening had fallen over the compound by the time Helen, Bruce and the medical team emerged from the operating room. Somehow, during the hours of waiting, May had convinced Tony to go change and wash himself up, but he hadn’t wanted to stray far from the medbay. The result was a set of green scrubs and loose hospital socks he scrounged up from a storage closet close to the operating room.

He knew he looked absolutely ridiculous, but he didn’t really care.

All he cared about was the medical report Helen was currently giving to him and May in a small conference room close to the medbay.

Once Peter had been taken to get settled in a recovery room by Bruce and some nurses, Helen insisted on talking to him and May about Peter’s condition. And while Tony just wanted to get on with it and see Peter with his own eyes, while he wasn’t very interested in knowing the details of every injury until he could personally make sure that Peter was breathing and coherent, he couldn’t deny Helen of this.

Because she was attached to the kid too. Maybe almost as much as he was. At least, in her own way. And this was her way of working through seeing Peter hurt. It always had been, ever since she met the kid for the first time, when he broke his ankle on patrol after crashing into a building and falling into a dumpster.

God, the kid was a disaster. Even when he wasn’t being kidnapped by psychotic maniacs, he always managed to hurt himself.

And just like that, Tony began to feel sick to his stomach. He suddenly didn’t want to sit here and hear Helen talk about Peter going into shock. He didn’t want to know the detailed results of what said psychotic maniacs known as Alvin and Co. did to him.

Clenching his teeth and the arms of the chair he was sitting in simultaneously, Tony forced himself to listen to the doctor in front of him. After all, he knew May would give him that look of utter disappointment she wore so well if he didn’t pay attention.

“Now, normally, a pelvic fracture would be the most concerning injury out of all of these.” Helen said, gesturing to the papers and laptop in front of her. “But fortunately, the fracture is small. It’s only slightly bigger than a hairline fracture. Because of this, Peter did not need surgery on the bone. I am confident that his age and healing factor will take care of it. However, even small pelvic fractures cause internal bleeding, so we did need to go in and clean that up.”

Tony blanched at the starkness of Helen’s tone. He knew she could activate her no-nonsense persona with the flick of a switch but hearing her talk about stopping internal bleeding like it was a walk in the park made him feel some kind of abstract horror. Because if internal bleeding wasn’t that big of a deal, what was? How badly was the kid hurt?

“His healing factor seemed to be working on fixing that more than anything else, so he only needed a couple pints of the blood we have on reserve for him. I suspect that, as long as he stays on bed rest and does the exercises we ask him, the pelvic fracture and internal bleeding will be the first things to heal based on what I have seen so far.”

“A couple of pints of blood?” Tony asked, incredulous.

“Yes, two.” Helen said. “I know it sounds bad, but I promise losing two pints of blood—while right near the edge of being dangerous—is not life threatening, especially for someone like Peter. He is lucky he didn’t lose any more blood, or he could have really been in trouble.”

Tony let out a deep sigh he didn’t even know he was holding in. He didn’t know what to say, do, or think anymore.

“She’s right, Tony.” May added. “It’s really not that big of a deal. He’ll be okay.”

At those words, Tony looked over at her, regretting it instantly. She looked five seconds away from breaking down completely, eyes shining, and forehead pulled tight with wrinkles. He didn’t know how May was holding it together when it her nephew, _her son_ , that was in this position.

Maybe it would forever be a mystery to him.

“If the pelvic fracture isn’t the most concerning, what is?” Tony asked, looking back to Helen. Looking away from someone that made him feel an immense amount of guilt.

Helen sucked in a breath. “His facial fractures are definitely the most concerning. With high-force trauma cheekbone fractures, the floor of the eye socket often also breaks as a result. This has happened in Peter, which you can see here.” Helen said, pointing to a zoomed-in x-ray of Peter’s right eye she had pulled up on her computer screen. “However, Peter is extremely lucky. He only has a small, single fracture in floor of his right eye socket. This is very relieving considering breaks in the eye socket can cause major problems.”

Tony didn’t even want to know what those major problems could be. No way. If Peter wasn’t dealing with it, he didn’t want to know.

“The more concerning part of his facial injuries is the cheekbone, which is officially called the zygomatic bone. Peter has sustained a complex zygomatic fracture, and the bone has fractured in three separate places, as you can see here.” Helen said, moving on to the next x-ray she had prepared.

Looking over the image, Tony didn’t know what to feel. On one hand, the parental side of him was screaming internally, he wanted to hunt down Alvin and his men. He wanted to beat them to a pulp so they could feel just a fraction, _a fraction_ of the pain Peter felt. But he knew Peter wouldn’t want it, and if he was able, he certainly wouldn’t allow it. Ironic. It was ironic that the kid was the only thing keeping him in check.

On the other hand, he knew Peter would love this x-ray. He would think it was completely badass. Awesome. A badge of honor. And a childish part of him couldn’t wait to show the kid, to see his reaction to his mangled and broken face. The way he would use his puppy-dog look to coerce him into printing a copy out and framing it.

The kid was weird, what could he say? 

But then, Helen’s continued medical talk brought him back to the present, back to the stark, harsh reality of the situation.

“There is also extensive bruising and swelling, most likely from repeatedly getting punched in the face.” Helen said, looking apologetic and uncomfortably unsettled. “I’ve—I’ve never seen that much swelling on a beating victim before. And—and I spent a lot of my residency working with domestic violence cases. He’s—It usually goes down on its own, the swelling that is, but we’ve had to give him extra medication and icing until it goes down further. It’s just really bad.”

Tony squeezed his eyes shut when he saw May shudder and tense out of the corner of his eye. He couldn’t handle this any longer. He couldn’t watch May slowly crack until she finally gave way to the pain she was feeling, and he couldn’t watch Helen lose her composure again. It was all too much. Two of the strongest women he knew were breaking apart right in front of him. He couldn’t handle it.

He needed Pepper. He needed her embrace now more than ever.

Because she wasn’t so emotionally and mentally connected to the situation. Because she could be strong, she could hold him up, when he couldn’t hold up himself.

“We had to do extensive surgery on the area, unfortunately. He now has several small metal plates and screws in his face in order to keep the integrity of his facial structure.” Helen continued, showing them a post-op x-ray, the metal in Peter’s face clearly standing out.

“Will he…” May stuttered. “Will he permanently be…”

Fortunately, Helen understood her horrible, morose train of thought. “We don’t believe he will have any lasting cosmetic issues with scars and deformation on his face, but we cannot be one-hundred percent certain at the moment. It is highly likely that his healing factor will kick in and take care of the issues as has happened in the past, but because he is currently malnourished, it may take longer than usual to heal.”

May looked closer to crying than Tony ever had the misfortune to see. 

“However, I can guarantee that the scars from the surgery will fade, and probably completely heal in Peter’s case. Luckily, advances in science have caused facial surgery to have fewer and smaller incisions than they did before. He only has small incisions under his right eyelid, above his right eyebrow, in the hairline above his right ear, and inside his mouth. Even in regular people these incisions fade and become hardly noticeable.”

Peter could have permanent scars on his face? They would be small, sure, but they were scars nonetheless. Tony tried to quell his panic at that thought, because Helen said they would most likely heal, and he had to bank on Helen knowing what she was talking about, because he didn’t know how to feel if he didn’t. And—and God, Peter hadn’t even had many opportunities to date yet…and kids were ruthless.

He could only hope for the best. It was the only way to keep his spiraling emotions in control. 

“For Peter, the difficult part about this injury and operation will be the recovery.” Helen continued, unaware of Tony’s internal panic. “He has significantly more bruising and swelling than average facial trauma patients because of the conditions and length of his captivity. During his stay in the medbay, he will be closely monitored for any complications. His face will also be frequently iced to help the swelling go down faster, and he will need to be on a soft food diet until he heals.”

A pause swept over the room at that moment. At the silence, Tony looked up at Helen questioningly. She looked kind of sad, like she was barely forcing her personal feelings to the side.

“Now,” she gulped, eyes glancing at the x-ray on her screen, “I know both of you will want to converse with him, and I’m also aware the police will want to question him, but he will need to keep his talking to a minimum for the next few days. He doesn’t need to completely stop, but he shouldn’t be doing anything close to the level of talking I am doing now. Doing so will help both with the healing process and the pain. I just want you to both be aware that it is going to be very painful for him to talk and chew.”

Tony didn’t want to hear that, and judging by May’s reaction, she didn’t want to hear that either.

“But…I want to hear Pete’s voice. I need—I need to make sure he’s okay.” May said, voice wavering.

Helen sighed, closing her eyes. “I know, May. I know this is hard for you; you and Tony. But if we want Peter to get better, he needs to try not to talk.

“Okay.” May whispered. “Okay. I’ll—I’ll—”

A tense silence accompanied May’s mutterings. She seemed fragile. Like glass.

Tony hated it. 

“There is just one more thing about the facial fractures before we move on.” Helen said, trying to get the three of them back on track. “While his face is healing, he will not be allowed to blow his nose. It’s procedural, to keep the fractures in place while they heal. I will have the nurses talk to him about it, but I think it’s important for you to both know as well. Just to remind him if he ever attempts it.”

“Okay.” Tony said, nodding along despite the wave of stress and anxiety that was trying to engulf him.

“Alright, let’s move on.” Helen said. She looked like she wanted to get this meeting over with as soon as possible.

Tony couldn’t blame her.

Sighing deeply, she continued. “Bruce took Peter’s blood before the operation and found traces of powerful sedatives and hallucinogens in his system. I will talk to the police about this when they question all of us, but I figured you should both be aware of them, especially considering the hallucinogens match almost exactly with the one’s we found in Peter’s system after his fight with Mysterio last summer.”

“ _What?!_ ” Tony felt the blood rushing into his ears. The emotional whiplash this conversation was causing was just too much. He was going to throw up. He was going to go into cardiac arrest. He—he—

Helen closed her eyes, seeming to steel herself. “We obviously don’t have any details right now, so please take a deep breath, Tony.”

“I—I—” Tony sputtered. He didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know what to feel. The only thing his mind seemed capable to process was shock. Shock and fear.

After a few long moments of silence, only punctuated by the sound of his ragged breathing, he felt May put a hand on his shoulders, rubbing back and forth.

“Helen’s right, Tony. We don’t know anything right now. We need to stay calm for Peter, okay?”

How was May calm again? How did she get it back together? How was she so strong when it was _her kid_ that most likely had his mind messed with in a way it should _never_ have been messed with again?

“Yeah—yeah. Okay.” He finally ground out, breathing heavily. He was going to kill whoever was responsible for this. He was going to murder them with his bare hands.

“Right.” Helen continued, clearly hesitant. “Well, there’s a few more injuries we need to discuss.”

“Okay.” May said, straightening her back and tensing her posture. Tony watching her out of the corner of his eye.

Helen straightened her own posture, and immediately got back to business. “The most fortunate injury—if you could say such a thing—to come out of this is Peter’s concussion. All brain scans show that it is very minor, and his right pupil is only very slightly blown. We obviously have not been able to perform any cognitive tests yet, but both Bruce and I are very confident that he will pass them with flying colors.”

“That’s a relief.” May visibly deflated.

Helen smiled. “He’s got a hard head. In more ways than one.”

Tony would have scoffed at Helen’s ridiculous attempt at humor if the situation wasn’t so tense. If panic wasn’t pulsing through his veins. If he didn’t feel like his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

“Now, we also had to perform surgery on the fracture in his right arm.” Helen said, pulling up an x-ray with clear, untreated damage. “Peter sustained a comminuted fracture to the ulna at the olecranon as you can see here. In lay man’s terms, this means he broke his arm at the elbow into several different pieces. This type of injury cannot heal without surgery, even for someone like Peter.” Helen took a moment to pull up the post-surgery x-ray after that. “We had to insert pins in the bone, similar to the operation on his face. In regular people, comminuted fractures can be very difficult to heal, but considering Peter’s had a comminuted tibia fracture before, I suspect that his arm will heal within four to eight weeks.”

Ugh. Did she have to bring up that disastrous tibia fracture right now? Peter’s nasty run-in with Electro last summer hadn’t gone well. It had only been a few weeks since the kid fought Mysterio, and he was still tense and jumpy. He definitely was nowhere near ready for that fight, considering it ended with the kid having surgery on his broken leg and crazy Electro getting away.

Tony did not want to relive any of the emotional fallout that encounter had caused. But unfortunately, he knew it would be at least ten times worse this time around. No doubt about it.

“Despite the gruesome look of his arm, the shoulder injury is actually more concerning.” Helen said, bringing him back to the present. “Because high-impact trauma was the cause of the dislocation, he has torn several muscles and ligaments. These types of injuries need immediate medical attention to immobilize, stabilize and decrease swelling. But since Peter didn’t get immediate help, his shoulder is significantly more swollen than the average shoulder dislocation patient. We’ve immobilized and set the injury, but he will need constant icing and anti-inflammatories to abate the swelling. Only time and lots of rest will give us a clearer picture of how long it will take him to recover.”

“But—but he will recover, right?” May asked. “He needs the shoulder to be okay, because he won’t stop being Spider-Man…”

Helen looked at her with kind eyes. “Peter’s resilient. He’s been thrown a lot of challenging injuries before and came out on top of all of them. And while nothing is for certain right now, I think it is fair to say both Bruce and I have a lot of hope for his recovery.”

Suddenly, Tony got the impression Helen wasn’t just talking about Peter’s shoulder, but much, much more. He would have to ask Sam about the likelihood of Peter developing PTSD or some other awful shit from this.

It was a conversation he would certainly put off for as long as possible. He wouldn’t kid himself. It was worthless to lie to his own brain.

“We are almost done. I can see your brain melting from all of this medical talk, Tony.” Helen said, lips moving upwards in a smile Tony knew she didn’t feel. “We just have to go over one more thing. Peter has experienced severe road rash from his encounter with the Humvee. These wounds are typical of this type of trauma. We preformed irrigation and debridement on all his scrapes, cuts and wounds, and they have also been disinfected and covered. They probably won’t take very long to heal, but he does have many bandages on his body, so I just wanted you both to be aware of that.”

Tony was thankful for all the detailed information Helen was giving them. It would prepare him for how Peter looked. It would help put his mind at ease, even though it was overwhelming at the present moment.

“Thank you, Helen.” He said. “I don’t know what we would do without you.”

A tight, pained smile crossed Helen’s features. “You know I would prefer not to have to treat a sixteen-year-old with these injuries, but I’ve grown just as attached to Peter as you have.”

Tony wasn’t sure how to feel about that statement, but he was willing to nod along nonetheless.

“Do either of you have any more questions?” 

“How long…” May began, licking her lips in the way of a nervous tick. “How long will he take to recover? Like…all the way. Every injury.” 

Helen sucked in a breath. “It’s all up in the air right now, but both Bruce and I suspect it will take a little bit longer than usual. This is because Peter is dealing with severe dehydration and malnutrition from not being fed or given anything to drink during his captivity. As both of you know, his metabolism is extremely fast. I estimate that, for Peter, no food and water for three days equivalent to two to three weeks for us. Now, humans can only survive without water for about four days, so clearly, Peter’s powers have done some to help mitigate that.”

Shit. Peter was _really_ in for one hell of a recovery. Tony didn’t know why now was the time it finally dawned on him, but this path they were about to venture down would be long and torturous. He didn’t know how he was going to deal with it.

“However, because of this severe issue, we’ve had to take more extreme measures than we usually would with normal dehydration and malnutrition.” Helen looked stressed as she continued, seeming to realize she’d forgotten about something on Peter’s long list of injuries. “We are currently giving him medicine and fluids through IV lines, and extra nutrients through a J-tube inserted into his stomach. We could not give him the regular nasogastric tube because of his facial fractures. It might take him a while to get back up to the level of strength and energy he is used to, but I am certain he will make a full recovery.”

“Thank you, Helen.” May said, eyes closed tight. “Thank you so much. For everything.” 

Tony knew she was just barely holding it together. There was no doubt about it.

“Your welcome.” Helen replied. “I’m glad to help in any way I can.”

After a beat in the conversation, Tony spoke. “Can we see Peter now?”

“Of course.” Helen said, standing. “This conversation went on longer than I expected it to, so I assume the nurses have Peter settled by now.”

And as he and May also stood and followed Helen to the door, Tony realized he still wasn’t ready to see the kid in such a broken and vulnerable state.

\--

Tony stood at the door of Peter’s hospital room, hesitant and a little fearful of what he would find.

May had already walked in and plunked herself down on one of the chairs at Peter’s bedside, but Tony felt like something was holding him back. Both physically and mentally.

Maybe it was a sense of knowing. A hidden, unexplainable knowledge. A knowledge that no one else in Peter’s life would be able to fathom, no matter how hard they tried.

The harrowing, disturbing knowledge of captivity.

It was something he would have to face when Peter woke up. Something that, in the weeks and months ahead, was sure to remind him vividly of the time after Afghanistan. A time he worked so hard to blot from his memory.

But he couldn’t escape it now. Not if he wanted to help Peter.

Stepping further into the room and closer to the bed, Tony was overwhelmed with the sharp, clean smell of antiseptic. It was different. Different from the coppery scent of blood that had been emanating off Peter from the moment he had stumbled upon him in that warehouse.

From his position, Tony could see the soft light reflecting off Peter’s washed curls. The nurses had cleaned him up. The dirt, grime and dried blood covering his hair was gone.

Clean.

Tony sighed in relief. Because cleanliness brought back a sense of humanity that only captivity could take away. It was a feeling he was unfortunately far too acquainted with.

And now Peter knew that feeling too.

He wanted to hold the kid. He wanted to give him the biggest hug known to man. And in a way, those thoughts showed his heartache and desperation. Because if Tony was being honest with himself, he hated hugs. He hated giving them, and he hated receiving them. His body always locked up and he would become overcome with tenseness.

But this situation…it was different. Because now Peter was home. He would recover—according to Helen—and he was safe. Things were going to be okay.

But even though he had a moment to catch his breath, to just watch Peter breathe, to see the signs of life, he couldn’t move any closer. He couldn’t get his feet to drag themselves further across the linoleum floor. He was being held back against his own accord.

Maybe it was the way the kid looked. Sure, he had been hurt before, laid up in the medbay and hopped up on drugs. But it had never been this bad. There had never been tubes sticking out every which way, bandages, slings and casts all over. He’d never seen someone with an IV line in their neck before, at least, not in person, not in real life. Not someone he cared about.

Not even Happy had looked this bad when he had to be intubated after the hellish Extremis situation.

Because Happy didn’t look starving and emaciated.

Tony wanted to kill those guys that did this to Peter. He really did. If he could find them—and he would look for them—he wouldn’t hold back. They deserved every ounce of pain Tony was capable of producing. He didn’t care if it was right or wrong. He didn’t want to think about such things.

Not when Peter had an uphill battle of this magnitude to fight.

He didn’t know how May was handling this. How she could look at her kid like that. Because the invisible, glass wall that was holding him back refused to break. He couldn’t draw closer. And in fact, he just wanted to run away.

Seeing Peter like this…it reminded him too much, too vividly, of things he worked so hard to bury in the back of his mind. Of events he wished he could erase forever.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that Peter had to experience something so similar to him.

Because Tony had tried desperately to protect him, but he failed.

He still failed.

A life built on failure after failure after failure.

Just like his father.

\--

_“Good evening, everyone and welcome to WHiH Evening News. I’m your host Dimitri. Tonight, we begin with some breaking news in the Peter Parker case. While details are not clear at the moment, it seems as if Parker has been found in an abandoned warehouse in Union City, New Jersey. Katrina Turner is on location with more information. Katrina?”_

_“Thanks, Dimitri. Just behind me is the warehouse where Parker was found. There are currently police just back there, as you can see. At this time, we don’t have any information on how the authorities traced him to this location, but we do know that Tony Stark, Captain Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff and Stark’s medical team were the first people on scene. Those responsible for kidnapping Parker have fled, and as of yet, they have not been found. Parker was transported away from this location in an Avengers-level jet just hours ago. It is suspected that he was airlifted to Stark’s private medical facility after sustaining severe injuries. Back to you, Dimitri.”_

_“There you have it folks, it looks like Parker has been found. We will continue to bring you updates on this story as it unfolds. Now onto the controversy surrounding Mayor Osborn’s new crime law.”_

Harrison sat in his recliner, chewing on a toothpick, eyes glued to the news report on the screen. Everything was proceeding smoothly. Wilson had ordered him to bring an end to this mess the day before when they were talking in Fisk Tower. And when Wilson ordered him to do something, he did it. No questions asked.

And now the Parker kid was being rescued, Alvin and his men nowhere in sight. Just as planned. The four million dollars were in Wilson’s pocket, and Harrison was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief. He wasn’t off the hook yet, that was for certain, and he still had orders to carry out, but at least death by those huge, meaty hands wasn’t on the table anymore. 

He knew Wilson had more orders for him, more things they needed to do in order to keep Tony Stark from prying around, but Wilson never revealed more than the current objective for those who worked for him. He played his cards close to his chest in order to keep everything secret and safe.

Harrison didn’t even know why Wilson wanted this kidnapping done and dusted so quickly and so suddenly. He suspected that it had to do with dampening Tony Stark’s rage, as well as getting the Parker kid back in New York, back under the Kingpin’s jurisdiction, but those were only guesses. Because Wilson never explained himself. He never told him why he did the things he did. And on the rare occasions that his boss did give reasons for things, it was always to intimidate him and coerce him into compliance. It was never just because.

Harrison sighed. It was time to stop thinking about this. He did what Wilson asked. There was no point in conjecturing about what the man had planned for him in the future. The was no point in worrying about the things he couldn’t control.

But just as he was about to turn the channel to sports, to basketball, his phone began to ring.

He looked down. It was Wilson.

Of course.

“I have to take this call in private, Eugene. Go out.” He said, turning to his son and holding up the ringing device.

Eugene blanched. “But, Father, I was here fir—”

Harrison grit his teeth. “Go. Out.”

Why was he cursed with such a disobedient son?

Eugene huffed dramatically, getting up from his seat. “Yes, sir.”

And Harrison, too preoccupied with the harrowing phone call he was about to have, never even noticed the distressed and slightly worried look on his son’s face as he took one last glance back at the TV.

He didn’t even think about why his kid was watching the news in the first place even though it was so unlike him. And he certainly didn’t think about the fact that his son had been in the room with him for God knows how long and he didn’t even notice his presence until his intimidating boss called.

He just didn’t think. Eugene was the last thing on his mind at a time like this.

Or maybe any time.

_“I presume you got your guys out of there?”_ Wilson drawled when he picked up the line.

Harrison gulped forcefully. “Yes, sir.”

_“Good.”_ Wilson said, taking a moment to pause. A moment where the only thing Harrison heard was the man’s breath on the other line. _“Dispose of them.”_

“What?!” Harrison exclaimed, feeling cold tendrils begin to creep up his spine.

He couldn’t believe this.

_“You heard me. Their loyalties lie with no one but themselves. They will talk if found. It is imperative that they become casualties of this mess.”_

Harrison paused, breath catching in his throat. Alvin was a friend. A good friend. And sure, he didn’t know John and Kevin all that well, and he didn’t feel that bad about offing them, but with Alvin…he didn’t know if he could do it. He couldn’t understand why Wilson was asking him, of all people, to do this. Because he wasn’t an idiot. He knew his boss had others who were far more capable at these kinds of operations than he was.

“Can’t someone else do it? Why me?” He asked, knowing questions were a bargain at this point.

But he didn’t think he could kill Alvin. Could he?

_“Because.”_ Wilson began, tone indicating he was annoyed. _“You need to prove your loyalty. We went over this yesterday and you agreed, Harrison, that you would do whatever I asked of you. And I’m asking you to do this, so you need to do it.”_

“But—but—”

_“Will you do it, Harrison? This is a yes or no question.”_

It wasn’t though. It wasn’t a yes or no question. Harrison wasn’t stupid enough to believe that. If he did it, he would be fine, but if he didn’t…well, he didn’t want to think about what would happen.

“Fine.” Harrison finally ground out, knowing it would be his death if he refused. “How and where do you want me to do it?”

_“I don’t care how it’s done, Harrison, I only ask that their bodies remain intact. I want Stark to see them dead. I want him to know they’re gone so he won’t even think about sniffing around. And dispose of their bodies in the city. I need their deaths in my jurisdiction, because I need the cops to make it a cold case faster than you can say murder.”_

Harrison gulped. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he was in way over his head. He felt like this wasn’t what he signed up for. But he didn’t have a choice, not at this stage in the game. Even protesting his role in all this was too risky.

He needed to suck it up.

He needed to be a man.

Just like he was always telling Eugene.

Be a man.

\--

Whatever. It wasn’t really his business anyway.

He would stay out of it.

At least, that’s what Flash tried to convince himself of for no longer than a split second before deciding it was better to eavesdrop while he could.

If his dad wanted to kick him out instead of just going into his office to take the call, that wasn’t his problem. And under these circumstances, well, it wasn’t Flash’s fault for eavesdropping, now was it?

Because the thing was, his dad never kicked him out when he had a business call. His dad didn’t pay much attention to him, but he did know Flash didn’t care about that stuff at all.

And besides business calls, there was only one other person he talked on the phone with.

His mom. 

So with that knowledge, Flash knew he had to eavesdrop.

He hadn’t heard from his mom in weeks. And while the rational part of him knew that was a good thing, that if she was home she would just nag and berate him about applying himself, the other part of him, the one that wanted to be loved and cared for, really wished she would show back up.

It wasn’t logical. It didn’t make sense. Because _Rose Thompson_ and _tender love and care_ didn’t go together in the same sentence. They never did.

He knew she was staying at the villa in the Hamptons. And if he had the guts, he would go there and confront her, but he knew she would just throw empty wine bottles at his head and slur at him to get out. Because he’d been on the receiving end of her drunken rage enough times to know to stay away.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He needed to get it together. He needed to just forget about the bad moments and remember the—unfortunately few—good ones.

And he hoped, that by listening in, he would hear his dad beg her to come back so they could work everything out as a family. So that _Eugene can have a mother._

He had to hope for that.

And as distant as his dad was, Flash couldn’t deny that he cared _somewhat_ about him. At least, the level of care was more than what his mom gave him. At least his dad had a functioning life with a career and money so he could have a roof over his head and food on the table. If it was just him and his mom, Flash had no doubts that they would both be homeless within weeks. Her destructive drinking habits would see to that.

Flash sighed, rubbing his face. If he didn’t look for the positives, he knew he would break completely. If he didn’t give his dad some credit, he didn’t think he could stand living in this house any longer.

Whatever. It was time to listen in. It was time to put his ear to the door and gain a little more faith in his dad, listen as he begged his mom to come back.

But instead of hearing his mom’s shrill, whiny voice on the other end of the line, Flash heard the voice of a man. A voice that sounded vaguely familiar.

A pit of disappointment sunk into his gut. He didn’t know why he wanted his mom to be on the other line so bad, and he didn’t want to examine his feelings about it either. But it wasn’t her, his dad was just on some business call, speakerphone and all like he always did.

Just another boring corporate meeting. Not his mom.

But just as he was about to turn away and go back to his room, he heard something that captured his interest, something that made him stay put. Something he couldn’t walk away from.

_“Fine.”_ His dad said, voice wobbling and uncharacteristically full of fear. _“How and where do you want me to do it?”_

Do what? What was going on? Flash didn’t think he’d ever heard his dad sound like that before. Sound so scared. Terrified.

It was flat-out weird.

Then the unknown voice spoke again, and this time, Flash listened to what the man was saying. It was something he would never forget. Something he would think about over and over again in the weeks and months to come. And maybe, just maybe, it was something he should do something about. If he was brave. If he wasn’t the world’s biggest coward.

_“I don’t care how it’s done, Harrison, I only ask that their bodies remain intact.”_ The unknown voice said, sounding threatening. _“I want Stark to see them dead. I want him to know they’re gone so he won’t even think about sniffing around. And dispose of their bodies in the city. I need their deaths in my jurisdiction, because I need the cops to make it a cold case faster than you can say murder.”_

Flash gulped, ears filling with an all-encompassing white noise. Stark? Tony Stark? _Murder_?! Was his dad being asked to murder someone close to Tony Stark? Was that what was going on?

And his dad was agreeing to it! That was the craziest part! What in the fucking hell?!

If his dad was going to kill somebody, he needed to do something about that, right? Even if he was being forced into it? Because it sure didn’t sound like his dad wanted to do it….

Did he need to call the police? Should he tell an adult at school?

But…but…if he told someone, they would take his dad away. They would force him to live with his mom, and that would be ten thousand times worse! And then they would be homeless and then he would be taken away from her too! He couldn’t go into the system. He just couldn’t. He’d heard the horror stories.

And life with his mom was enough of a horror story anyway.

Closing his eyes and talking a few deep breaths, Flash tried to calm himself. He couldn’t deal with this. Not right now, and probably not ever. He was just a kid after all. He shouldn’t have to be dealing with murder plans and loser parents.

Slowly feeling his brain begin to shut down as he went into full-on panic mode, he decided to go to his room, get in his bed, pull the covers up to his chin and forget about everything for a little while. He didn’t want to examine his feelings. He didn’t want to think about how a few sentences instantaneously changed his perception of his dad.

He just didn’t want to think. At all. Plain and simple.

And as he nestled under the covers and curled up into the smallest, tightest, ball possible, he made his decision.

And he hoped it was the right one. 

Whatever. It wasn’t really his business anyway.

He would stay out of it.

\--

Waking for the first time was a difficult task.

Peter felt like he was swimming upstream through murky, dark waters. Neither his mind nor body wanted to cooperate. Reality didn’t exist in his hazy, warped world. He didn’t know where he was or where he’d been, and he didn’t much care either. His body felt pinned down to something cushy and soft. And if someone told him he was floating through the sky on a white, fluffy cloud, he would have believed them.

And after much exertion, after much effort, he opened his eyes.

Looking around, he felt a sense of déjà vu overtake him, but he couldn’t place it. The place looked familiar, but he couldn’t get his mind to tell him where he was. Blinking back the haze from his eyes and trying to get a good look at his surroundings, he felt a sudden and sharp pain consume the right side of his face.

Peter wasn’t even aware that he cried out in response, but he must have, because the next thing he knew, a familiar bearded face was swimming in front of him.

“Pete! Pete? Are you okay? What happened? Why are you awake?” The voice said, speaking so fast that Peter had no time to digest the meaning.

“Missr Ss’a’k.” He found himself slurring, his brain finally making the connection of who was in front of him.

“Yes, yes it’s me. Are you okay? Do you need more pain medication?” The man asked, sounding frantic and worried.

Peter didn’t know if he was okay, he couldn’t even figure out what was going on or where he was.

“Wha—wha—” He began, trying to get the words out around the cotton feeling in his mouth that he just began to register for the first time, but instead just puffing out soundless air and feeling like he was going to choke on his own vocal chords.

“Uh…okay.” Mr. Stark began, looking panicked and out of his element completely. “Shit. You need water, don’t you? Hold on.”

He must have closed his eyes or drifted off for a moment, because the next thing Peter was aware of was a straw being pushed to his chapped lips.

“Drink.” His mentor ordered. “But don’t go too fast.”

Peter obeyed, feeling great relief when the cold, icy water hit his throat. He took gulp after gulp, sucking it in as fast as he could, completely disregarding Mr. Stark’s orders to take it slow. He finally felt able to relax, and he finally felt a little more clear-headed and with it. 

And then, after what felt like little more that a few seconds, the straw was pulled away from his mouth, causing him to moan lowly in protest.

“It’s okay.” Mr. Stark placated. “You shouldn’t overdo it. Nobody here wants you to throw up. Helen will have my hide if you do.”

Peter didn’t even know what his mentor was talking about, but he didn’t really care either. He could feel the call to sleep pulling at him again, wanting him to sink back comfortably into that floating cloud. And blinking back up at Mr. Stark, he knew he couldn’t hold onto consciousness for much longer. His eyes wouldn’t focus, and the world was swimming.

Mr. Stark looked down at him, his smile laced with worry. “Go back to sleep, Peter. We’ll all be here for you when you wake up.”

And so he did, already asleep by the time Mr. Stark left the room and closed the door.

\--

The next time Peter woke, it was to a sudden, burning cold. It was so sudden and so startling, that he didn’t have to force himself into consciousness this time, his mind and body came to the surface with sharp and instantaneous clarity.

Because everything was freezing. His thoughts were consumed with it. He moaned in protest, trying to pull away from the sudden change in temperature. He wanted to get comfortable. He wanted to sink back into the abyss he had been violently torn from.

“Shhh. Just relax, honey.” An unfamiliar voice said somewhere to his right. “It’s okay. We are just icing a couple of your injuries.”

At that, Peter turned his head, wanting to look at the person he could feel standing next to him. It was an action he instantly regretted. Pain shot up and down the entire right side of his body, the worst of it in his face. He quickly squeezed his eyes shut again. It was an involuntary response to the sheer agony he was experiencing. He didn’t understand. He didn’t know what was going on. Where was he?

“Take a deep breath.” The discombobulated voice said again. “You are going to be okay, Peter. You are safe. You are being cared for. You are in the medbay at the Avengers compound. My name is Jeanne and I am your head nurse.”

Peter’s head was spinning from all the new information. He needed to get it together. He needed to get his head above water and stop the feeling of mental drowning. But just as he was starting to find his bases again, the burning cold returned, striking his already pain-filled face like some sort of hot iron.

He squirmed and recoiled away from the touch, arching his back, legs withering. It wasn’t something he should have done, because the next thing he knew, white, hot, searing pain shot through his legs and pelvic area, causing him to gasp and open his eyes wide and in fear.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” The woman—Jeanne—placated again. “Just hold still, okay? Your pelvis is broken and if you want it to heal, you shouldn’t move.”

His pelvis was broken? What was going on? What had happened? If he could just get his brain to function for five seconds, he was certain he could figure it out.

“I know the ice doesn’t feel very comfortable, but we need to put it on your face and shoulder to help the swelling go down, okay?” Jeanne continued, adjusting the aforementioned packs as she spoke.

Peter moaned. Even moments after holding perfectly still, the pain and discomfort were still throbbing and pulsing along with his heartbeat. He needed to calm down and figure out what was going on. Why was he in the medbay? What happened? Why did everything hurt?

He looked up at Jeanne properly for the first time. His face must have held some sort of desperation because the look of pity in her blue eyes was enough to make him uncomfortably avert his gaze. He didn’t want to talk, though. He didn’t want to ask any questions. Because from the level of pain he was feeling in his face, even with the ice packs, he knew talking would be agony.

The world was still laced in a murky fog of medications and sedatives. And despite how hard he tried, how much he wracked his brain, Peter couldn’t figure out why he was here, why he was laid up like this and why he was in so much pain.

He didn’t know how long Jeanne sat there with him, holding the ice pack to his face and fussing over his blankets and drip line, but just as he began to feel relaxed enough to let the fog pull him back under, May walked into the room.

And seeing her face, seeing the haggard lines of stress and worry, seeing the bags under her eyes and her tussled hair, Peter remembered everything. It all came back to him in a flash and with startling clarity. Being hit by that Humvee, being kidnapped and held against his will, the violence, the deprivation and the scenes of horror his mind had been subjected to.

The scenes of death and destruction. The scenes of his aunt—of her being murdered in cold blood. Of Mr. Stark dying like that. Of—of—

And suddenly, he was crying, hot tears rolling down his face in waves. Because May was _here._ She was safe. She was safe when he had been so certain that she was gone forever. He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe that he had been rescued from that hell hole. He thought for certain he would die in there. Alone. No one ever knowing what happened to him.

He was only minutely aware he was sobbing, a wretched, anguished sound escaping from his throat. He was only minutely aware he was shaking. He didn’t even register the physical pain he had to be feeling.

May was at his side, holding his free hand in hers, whispering calm reassurances to him. Words he couldn’t even process beyond the massive weight that had been lifted off his shoulders.

“It’s okay, honey. You’re okay. Please don’t cry, Peter. Please don’t cry. Your face will take longer to heal if you cry. You’re safe, honey. I’m right here. I’m okay. We are both safe. Everything is okay.”

He was free. He was free, but he didn’t even know how to deal with it beyond sobbing. Beyond letting his concerned aunt wipe the tears from his face as they fell. 

He distantly heard people talking above him, but it was like he was in a tunnel, a vacuum. He couldn’t register what anyone was saying anymore. All he could do was cry tears of relief.

And then the welcome sting of medication traveling through his IV and hitting his veins washed over him, enveloping him like a blanket and taking him back down to the abyss.

The last thing he heard before unconsciousness consumed him was May’s voice telling him he was safe. Telling him everything was going to be okay.

He believed her. Unequivocally.

\--

The third time Peter woke, it felt natural, as if waking up on a Saturday afternoon after sleeping in for a ridiculously long amount of time. This time, he knew where he was and what had happened within seconds, the fog that had permeated his mind had significantly lessened, and his head felt clear for the first time in…well, he didn’t know how long.

He turned his neck, feeling a dull throb of pain in his face at the movement. Both May and Mr. Stark were in the room, sitting at his bedside and keeping vigil. Keeping watch over him. Mr. Stark was out cold, fast asleep with a small dripple of drool hanging out of his mouth. It was nice to see the man relaxed for once, especially since Peter knew everything that happened to him must have put them both through hell.

He couldn’t believe he’d been kidnapped. _Kidnapped._ The weight of it all hadn’t sunk in yet. He couldn’t figure out how to process any of it, and he didn’t want to. Not when he was laying here like this.

Letting his eyes rove over to his aunt, Peter noticed she was reading. Her brow was furrowed as she scanned the pages of a book Peter couldn’t make out the name of from such a distance.

“May.” He croaked out, surprised at how difficult it was to talk, how much it hurt and how uncooperative his tongue felt. He let out a hiss of pain, trying to breathe regularly despite how incapacitated he felt after saying one word.

His aunt startled at his voice, dropping her book to the floor with a soft thunk. “Peter!” She said. “Are you okay, honey? What hurts?”

“E’rything.” Peter grit out, trying not to clench his teeth because he quickly found out that hurt even more.

“I’ll go get the nurse.” May said, getting to her feet.

“No, wait!” He protested weakly, left arm reaching out to his aunt, but feebly flopping on the bed after a few short seconds. “Wha—wass goin’ on?” 

May’s eyes turned soft, and she smiled sadly at him. She looked exhausted and broken and everything in between. “Well…” She began, quickly glancing over at Mr. Stark, probably just as surprised as he was that the man was still asleep. And then she sighed. “What do you remember?”

Peter didn’t want to play this game. Not one bit. He didn’t want to dance around things they all already knew. He didn’t have the mental capacity to beat around the bush. He was tired, his whole body hurt, it was hard to talk…he just wanted answers.

“Jus’…how long ‘ave I been in ‘ere?” He slurred, not sounding anywhere as annoyed as he felt.

“Two days.” His aunt said simply, perching herself on the edge of the hospital bed. “But…you were…taken five days ago.”

Five days? It had been five days since he was hit by a car out of nowhere, body flying in the air and splattering across the pavement. “Wha—” He finally croaked out, feeling confused and disoriented.

May looked away, instead staring out the window at the compound grounds. She seemed uncomfortable, like she was teetering on the edge of some kind of mental cliff. “Get some sleep, honey.” She finally said, not meeting his eyes. “You look exhausted.”

But Peter knew sleep wouldn’t come. Not right now. Not when he didn’t have the answers, when he didn’t understand how he’d been saved when he was positive it was all over.

“Wha’ happened? How was I re’cued?” And he hoped May would be willing to answer, because saying those six words had been incredibly difficult and painful.

“Peter…you aren’t supposed to be talking much right now. And I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but we need to have this conversation another time. When you’re better, okay?”

At that, tears came unbidden to his eyes, tears of frustration. He just wanted to know what was going on. He wanted to understand how this happened, why it happened. He didn’t understand why his aunt was acting the way she was, why she was being so distant and closed off. He didn’t like the anguished look in her eyes, and he wanted more than anything to make it go away, to show her that he was okay—fine even.

But he wasn’t fine. And he knew that. Everything hurt, and despite the mental clarity that had finally found him, exhaustion was still seeping through his bones and sucking the energy right out of him.

“Don’t cry, honey.” His aunt said, using the pad of her index finger to gently wipe at the left side of his face. “You need to work on healing, and crying won’t help that.”

Peter nodded, realizing as much from the sudden spike of pain behind his right eye. He had to get everything under control. What was wrong with him?

“How about you watch some TV. Distract yourself, okay?” May said, handing him one of those hospital remotes that were connected to the bed.

And as Peter looked down at it, he felt a slight whiff of disappointment. This was the compound. Mr. Stark had so much money and could do anything he wanted when designing this place, but he decided to keep the crappy hospital bed remotes? Really?

He would have laughed at the preposterous turn in his thoughts if he wasn’t hurting so much.

“Well? You gonna turn it on, mister?” May asked. “Or do you want to go back to sleep?”

Peter pushed the power button. If he was being honest with himself, sleep sounded wonderful, but his mind was racing. He was thinking about too many things. Thinking about everything that happened.

Thinking, but not really thinking at the same time.

The screen blared to life in front of him, and he was inundated with a wall of sight and sound. Sound loud enough that Mr. Stark startled awake, jolting to a sitting position and wiping the drool from his mouth.

But his mentor was the last thing on his mind when he saw what was on the TV in front of him.

It was the news. Blaring and loud and in his face. It wouldn’t have been something he ever gave a moment of thought to before, but this time, it caught his eye.

Because on the screen was him. His name, his sophomore class picture, and a video on a loop. A video that, although he had never seen it, was vibrantly familiar. His whole body seemed to shutter in pain as he watched himself collide with a massive, black Humvee, as he watched himself fly through the air and collide with the pavement below. And despite how horrible it was to see it, despite how horrible it was to virtually re-live it again, he couldn’t look away.

He couldn’t look away. Not when he watched himself laying on the ground like that, prone and unmoving. Not when a shadowy figure he never wanted to see again made his way into the frame, not when said figure crouched down in front of him—

And just when Peter squeezed his eyes shut despite the pain the action caused his face to endure, the screen shut off. The noise he belatedly registered as news reporters talking disappeared.

“That’s enough.” Mr. Stark said, his voice sounding rough and gravelly.

Peter didn’t know how to define what had just happened. He didn’t know what to make of it. Questions of why he was on the news were all garbled and bunched up with the fear of seeing Alvin’s face again. A fear that pulsed through his veins with the beat of his heart.

He thought it was over, because it was, but was it really ever over? Would it really ever be okay again? Or would moments of perpetual nightmare keep returning, unannounced, as if he was Bill Murray in _Groundhog Day_? Because he felt like he was experiencing the same terror over and over and over again.

And the worst part was that over and over and over again was just beginning.

It didn’t even occur to him to ask his aunt or Mr. Stark why he was on the news. There was too much fear in him, and he carried that fear back under, when the drugs they pumped him full of carried him back into the abyss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did A LOT of medical research for this chapter, and I probably got some of it wrong. Feel free to let me know if I made any egregious errors! :) I also want to apologize for all the word vomit and medical exposition in this chapter. I know it’s a lot, and might have not been very fun for some of you to read, but first of all, I wanted it that way because this is my fic, and second of all, it needed to be explained for future stuff that will happen in the immediate future. I also enjoy writing Helen Cho. <3 
> 
> I also know Cho isn’t some magical doctor that knows how to take care of every injury and ailment ever, but I enjoy using her in my fics, so just suspend your disbelief lol. 
> 
> All that stuff about where Peter’s incisions are and not blowing his nose and the soft food diet are all apparently real things from facial fractures, according to the internet that is.  
> \--  
> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated. They keep ya girl writing after all ;) <3 <3

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated. They keep ya girl writing, after all! :) <3  
> 


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